Damascene
by Rob Rimsill
Summary: There are a myriad of heroes in the Throne. Not all are from worlds we might recognise as Earth. The moment one reaches out and pulls one down, one crystallizes a single possibility out of a near-infinity. This is one of those alternate possibilities, and my chaos butterflies can level cities.
1. Chapter 1 - Connect

The main living room was filled with family members, and Ilyasviel von Einzbern was entirely alone in it. Although the room was large and opulent, nearly every Einzbern was in there at the moment, and that much arrogance, petty rivalry, and sheer, genuine magus bloody-mindedness had a way of making any room feel cramped. At one end of the room, Grandfather Jubstacheit sat in his grand armchair, almost as old as he was and, for every Einzbern who'd ever been caught playing around it, sitting in it, or, god forbid, jumping on it, almost as intimidating. The senior heirs sat on the sofas and couches, less exalted family members on the individual chairs that had been arranged in a circle around the middle of the room, and branch members stood on the peripheries.

Ilya herself stood in a corner with the homunculi maids and butlers. It had been made very clear to her over her eighteen years of life that although she was invaluable as the Grail Vessel (and was thus allowed to use the Einzbern name, since the only other possible surname was 'Emiya' and no Emiya was allowed within Einzbern territory, as backed up by the bounded fields that surrounded the isolated mountain castle), she was on no account to think of herself as equal to one of the _actual_ members of the family. If she were ever in danger of forgetting this, all she had to do was look in the mirror – although the Einzberns were all blond and pale skinned, only their homunculi had Ilya's silver hair, and skin so white she looked like one of the snow fairies of legend. And although a homunculus was a valuable servant – not Servant, even combat-focused homunculi were no match for the weakest Servant – they weren't human. The kinder Einzberns, the ones that hadn't learned any better yet, treated them as something like a very intelligent household pet. Ilya, once her father had killed her mother, betrayed the family, and left to take care of some random boy _without even bothering to come and fetch her_ (not necessarily in that order), was usually treated the same way, when she wasn't being groomed as the perfect Grail Vessel.

And so she stood with the homunculi, who were usually kinder to her than her family anyway, no expression on her face as various cousins, aunts, and uncles – not that she was allowed to think of them that way, let alone call them that to their faces – argued.

No-one seemed interested in asking her opinion. This struck her as odd, since the argument seemed to be primarily about her.

"-_learned nothing from the debacle ten years ago_-"

"-_thought the plan was to summon a Berserker, no messing around with clever plots this time_-"

"-_and whose idea was it to have the vessel also act as the Master anyway, that defeats the entire purpose of the Heaven's Feel ritual in the first place_-"

"-_suppose there's no chance we can order this one to kill itself and resummon a different Servant_-"

"-_this is the best outcome we could have hoped for given the Master we selected_-"

Jubstacheit clicked his cane on the floor. The sound wasn't loud, but it cut through the babble of voices like a gunshot. Every head turned to look his way.

"All of you will be silent unless I call on you," he growled, eyes scanning the room and daring any of those assembled to argue. "I can't hear myself think with all you children twittering on. Now. You have by now no doubt heard that we have summoned the first Servant in the Heaven's Feel ritual. However, we have had to adjust our original plans in light of circumstances.

"The temple to Heracles we were investigating as a possibility was buried by an earthquake, as you should all be aware if you have any degree of interest in the family legacy. However, I can now reveal that we believe this to have been the work of one of our rivals; or rather, a hireling of theirs. Needless to say, both the monkey and the organ grinder have been dealt with." The corner of Acht's mouth twitched slightly. A less controlled person would be grinning nastily.

"For our next relic, we were more circumspect. We considered a number of possible Berserkers, but in the end we decided on a certain Japanese monster. Supposedly, it ravaged Japan for three months straight before finally being stopped at the Seiryouen Goken temple in Tosa. Its remains were interred there, and it was these that our agents managed to recover. We also retrieved some part of the framework for the Greater Grail, allowing our Master to summon their Servant two months in advance of the ritual. This all went as planned."

Ilya felt the weight of the old man's focus settle on her, although he didn't deign to actually look directly at her.

"Perhaps the summoner could explain why, despite our including the lines that summon the Heroic Spirit into the Berserker class, we have instead ended up with a Saber…"

Despite a lifetime of controlling herself, Ilya still couldn't stop herself shivering at her grandfather's unspoken accusation. A couple of the Einzberns started muttering under their breath to those next to them. Even so, the noise carried in the tense room.

"-_knew it was a mistake getting that _thing_ to try and summon a Servant correctly, I offered up Johannes as Master but he was refused_-"

"-_we've started going wrong already, might as well just give up and prepare for the next ritual, hopefully we have more time this time around_-"

"… but the point is moot," Jubstacheit continued. "For one thing, the Servant seems content to follow the orders of its Master, though not of anyone else. Regrettable that it has no respect for the family hierarchy, but given that we can simply order the vessel to order its Servant this is acceptable. For another thing, our original strategy is in fact still viable using this Servant."

A couple of family members, those who'd known of the original plan of simply overpowering any opposition using a berserk Heracles, gasped.

"It's that powerful, even summoned away from its homeland? I've never even heard of it!" protested one particularly rash young magus sitting on a dining chair, only to quail under Jubstacheit's gaze.

The old man was silent for a long moment, examining the boy as if he had just spit on the carpet. The offender gulped and seemed to realise what he'd just said. Those near him started to edge away slightly. Given what had happened in the past to those who displeased the Einzbern patriarch, this was possibly prudent. The term 'blast radius' was appropriate.

"… go and stand in the corner, pup," Acht said, very quietly. The young magus almost tripped in his haste to comply.

Acht raised his voice slightly to address the room. "You would question me? You would imply that I am in any way unsure about some aspect of the Heaven's Feel ritual, which, I would remind all of you, is the goal of this family? Make no mistake, I have been thinking about this ritual, and only this ritual, for the last seventy years.

"I permit all of you to pursue your own studies because there is a chance," he sneered, "however slight, that you might discover something that will allow us to alter the ritual to our advantage, or prevail in battle, or otherwise help us ultimately attain the materialisation of the soul. And so I let you perfect your homunculi. And so I let you spend years exploring the limits of transmutation. But if I knew for sure that there was no merit in such paths, I would forbid each and every one of you from doing anything but preparing ourselves for the Grail War!

"I am the world's expert in this ritual. And so you believe me, _boy_, when I say that our Servant is equal to the task I have devised for it."

Jubstacheit gestured at the vacated chair, and it dragged itself to the centre of the gathering, a coffee table moving obligingly out of the way as it did so. "Ilyasviel. Sit down."

Ilya jumped. The head of the family speaking directly to her? Asking her to sit when others of the family stood? She wanted nothing more than to turn and run from the room, but at an almost imperceptible nudge from Sella beside her she slowly walked forwards on shaky legs and perched herself on the edge of the high-backed chair.

She looked around almost guiltily. Forced to acknowledge her presence, the primary heirs regarded her with expressions that made it clear that she would never be welcome. Those who were forced to stand looked livid at the insult Jubstacheit was offering them by implicitly promoting her, the nothing, the daughter of the traitor, the _homunculus_, above them in the family hierarchy.

Ilya's eyes filled with tears, though she did her best to hide the fact. She remembered when she'd played with some of the youngest here as children, all laughing together and charging through the oak-panelled halls of the Einzbern castle. Then the War had come and gone, and she was left with no mother, no father, and since her grandfather had proclaimed her father's treachery, no-one willing to associate with her enough to call her friend. The closest she had were the family homunculi. As the daughter of one of their own, they regarded her as a favourite niece, never mind that she was older than any of them. Still, they never lasted long enough to get really familiar with, only living for a handful of years at most.

Her grandfather's voice snapped her back to the present. "Ilyasviel, I understand you summoned your Servant in the wilderness?"

"Yes, grandfather," she replied quietly, looking at her knees.

"How did it perform?"

"Saber destroyed everything that came close. Neither she nor I got a scratch on us. The wolves, the birds, she killed them all. Even the reinforced familiars and constructs that came after were no match. She obliterated every one." Ilya couldn't remember much of what had actually happened that night, when the family had thrown her outside the castle in a blizzard with the wolves as hungry and fierce as they'd ever been, all in the name of a sink-or-swim test for her, and to force her to summon her Servant.

Ilya had performed the ritual with the materials she could gather out in the mountains by herself. There were no chickens to give blood, but she could bleed well enough. No chalk for a circle, but the snow took shapes just fine. She had said the words, teeth chattering, and had been delighted when she had felt the pain of her magic circuits activating, felt it actually work. She could remember the howls and snarls of the wolves growing louder, and seeing dark shapes lunging out of the whirling snow towards her. But then her Saber, almost invisible in her white kimono save for her hair and pink highlights, had appeared, had done… _something_… and the wolves had died. More had come, and Saber had killed them too. It wasn't particularly dramatic or exciting, and in any case Ilya couldn't see much through the storm. The wolves had come, and then they had fallen over and bled out on the snow.

Other beasts had come afterwards, and the constructs made of wire that were as close as the Einzberns had come to developing combat magecraft. Saber hadn't had noticeably more trouble with these than with the wolves. When dawn came, and the storm had died down, Ilya looked out over the snow, drenched with blood and gore, and at Saber, standing over her as if nothing was wrong. It was the first time since her parents had left that she'd felt safe.

"…I do not recall familiars and constructs being part of that test," her grandfather was saying. Not to her, this time, she thought, so she stayed silent.

One of the women sitting in an armchair shrugged. "If the Servant could be inconvenienced by anything we could send against it, it was hardly worth summoning in the first place."

Acht nodded. "Very well. Ilyasviel, as the Master of Saber, do you believe that your Servant will be able to defeat all opposition in the War?"

Ilya scrunched her hands in the folds of her dress. "I don't _know_, I've only ever seen one Servant apart from Saber and that was Daddy's and that was years ago-"

Angry muttering had broken out in the room, many of the Einzberns looking at each other and shaking their heads.

Ilya spoke over them, "But Saber is the strongest! I can see her rankings, there's no way anyone else has a Servant as good! Doesn't everyone say it? Saber is the most outstanding class of Servant! We'll win the War, grandfather, I promise!"

Acht had raised his eyebrow at Ilya's outburst, and at her declaration he gave a dry chuckle. "Good. I trust all are satisfied with Ilyasviel's word on the matter?"

Only one person actually gave a derisive snort out loud. The Einzberns were better trained than that.

"Then on to the next issue. Can you control your Servant, Ilyasviel? The last ritual was almost ruined entirely because the Master of Caster let his Servant run wild, creating a disaster that nearly resulted in the Counter Force killing everyone involved." And every man, woman, and child in the surrounding area, Ilya supposed, from what she knew of the Counter Force, but honestly that was incidental compared to the obliteration of the ritual to reach Akasha.

"I've had no trouble with Saber so far, grandfather. She's usually happy to do as I ask. And there's always the Command Seals."

Her grandfather grunted. "Hrm. Well. We had originally had you attempt to summon your Servant so early in order to let you gain some measure of control over a Berserker, but I suppose you may use this extra time to build a rapport with your Servant and work on your teamwork. Be grateful for this opportunity, child, it is not one most Masters receive."

"I am, grandfather." Even though every moment Saber was materialized felt like hot fire running through every one of her nerves, prana forcing itself through her magic circuits, spiritual organs in a physical body that was never designed for them, protesting as they manufactured od over and over again. After an hour Ilya couldn't fathom how she was supposed to deal with two months of this torture until the Grail appeared to take up most of the slack. After two hours she was sure she would go mad. In a fit of sheer spite she tried to hurt Saber, her Saber, through the link, but when Saber didn't seem to feel it she'd given up in shame and resignation. After twenty-four hours, when the pain still hadn't gotten any better but she'd got somewhat used to it, Ilya had apologised to Saber.

The petite Servant had inclined her head. "I am used to pain, Master," she'd explained. "I went my entire life with a weak body that couldn't even live, couldn't even die. An advantage to being a spirit, I must say." Ilya didn't really get it, but even so she'd never tried to deliberately torture her Servant again. Besides, having a Servant that could plan for herself seemed like a much better idea now she could think straight.

Jubstacheit clapped his hands, and Ilya blinked. "Very well. Then I propose we leave the preparation of the War to you, Ilyasviel. We will send a staff ahead of you to prepare the old Fuyuki Castle and activate the Bounded Fields. Apart from yourself and your Servant you will be allowed to take your personal handmaids with you to take care of essentials while you focus on the War. Until then, you will continue your studies and your exercises and tests with Saber here at the castle. Perhaps you would like to be moved into your mother's old room?" he suggested with what, on anyone else, would be a warm smile.

Ilya's breath caught in her throat. "Thank you grandfather, that would be very generous of you."

"Now hold on a minute!" one of those on the couches exclaimed, an older lady with the characteristic blonde hair of the main Einzbern branch – an aunt of sorts, then. "I will accept that the vessel's Servant is competent. But there is another point of failure that we have not considered, not even begun to discuss."

"Oh?" Acht said, as though someone had pointed out that he'd forgotten to close a door.

"Yes. _That_," said the woman venomously, pointing at Ilya without looking at her. "It has already messed up the summoning ritual – no matter how fortunate the results might have been," she added quickly at Acht's darkening expression. "Lest we forget, all factors were in our favour during the last War – the one reason we did not ultimately obtain the Grail was the failure of the Master. The treachery of that thing's father!" The woman rose from her seat and began pacing the room. "_I_ say, how do we know it won't fail in exactly the same way? Like father, like daughter." There were murmurs of assent from around the room – about half of those assembled were nodding, and the rest weren't voicing their disagreement.

"I won't!" Ilya shouted desperately.

"Be silent!" spat her aunt. "We have heard that this Saber is happy to follow its Master, whoever that might be. With the two months to establish a working relationship that Lord Einzbern has so kindly given us, it should be able to successfully work with anyone we might pair it with. If the vessel is really loyal to our family, it will recognise that it doesn't matter _which_ of us wins the Grail, so long as one of us does. I understand that the vessel is well-suited to providing prana, and I have no objections towards letting it fulfil that function. However, to prove its fidelity beyond question, it should surrender its Command Seals to a surrogate Master, chosen by a family committee. One who has been fully educated. One accomplished in the noble research of the family. One whose loyalty is beyond question. My son would be a perfect-"

At this the woman was drowned out by a roar of protest as each Einzbern tried to seize their slice of the pie. Everyone sitting down stood up, no-one could hear anything over everyone else, and Jubstacheit sighed and motioned for one of his personal homunculi to bring him a glass of wine while the rest of the family argued.

Ilya watched her family helplessly. She wanted to say something, anything, that might make them let her keep Saber and go to Japan to fight the War properly and not just stay cooped up in the castle _again_ and just maybe find that boy her father had left her for-

_BANG._

The room fell silent as the door was smashed clean off its hinges. Splinters ricocheted around the room and were stopped by personal shields or carefully caught by bodyguard homunculi. Every head turned to look at the ruins of the doorway, and so did Ilya, who had to turn right round in her chair to look.

Saber stood there, framed by the light from the hallway. She didn't look particularly impressive, at first glance. A tiny Japanese woman, not much taller than Ilya herself, with thigh-length dark hair that was unique in the blonde-haired Einzberns' castle, tied with a pink carnation near the end. She was dressed in a white kimono, with a pink sash and hem, along with sandals. Her arms and legs seemed too slim to support her own weight, let alone blast a reinforced door that could hold and had held up to sustained cannon fire to pieces.

Yet the proof was falling with a clatter around the stunned Einzberns, as Saber looked around the room at the frozen family.

"Oh dear," she said, her German unaccented and her voice demure. "The War hasn't even started yet and already my Master is in danger. What a failure of a Servant I am. I'll just have to remove all witnesses and hope my Master forgives me."

"You dare threaten-" began one of the larger men in the room before Saber took a single step forwards. There was an indefinable pressure in the room, as though the air was filled with blades and one twitch could cut a careless person to ribbons.

The man's warrior homunculi detached themselves from the wall and stood protectively in front of him, oversized halberds held at the ready. One gave a subtle apologetic glance towards Ilya.

Saber took another step forwards, until she was five full paces from the line of homunculi. "Oh, are we warming up? Certainly I'd be happy to demonstrate my skills. I am a little mystified as to why you have had my Master draw her sword when there are no enemies to fight, but if you wish to get her used to battle by culling the weak and stupid from the family, that is another matter." Her arms blurred, and the weapons fell apart in the hands of the homunculi. Saber laid her hand on the Einzbern magus' cheek. Ilya hadn't even seen her move. "Of course, I am new to this time period, and perhaps you simply wished to impress me with a show of valour. I am touched, but I am not looking for partnership at this time."

The man flushed, jerked back, and raised his hand and opened his mouth to chant an aria, before Jubstacheit growled, "Stand down, you fool. She could kill everyone in this room, including me, before you could get the first word out, and she's been more merciful than you deserve."

Ilya got to her feet and dusted off her dress. This was it, there was no going back now, she was _standing up to the family_, and the only way out was to go all-in. She took a breath, feeling vaguely like she was in a dream, and said, "I feel I should inform you all that I have requested Saber to protect me until the conclusion of the Grail War, and she has agreed. As such, I suggest you don't try and forcibly take my Command Seals as Saber is likely to interpret that as a threat. And-" she looked her grandfather in the eye for the first time since she was two, "-I won't voluntarily give up the Command Seals. The Greater Grail gave them to me, and I mean to use them to win the War and undo the damage my father caused. Saber is mine. Saber is the strongest. I won't lose!"

Acht didn't do anything so undignified as smile, but Ilya thought she saw approval in his face anyway.

"Very well. The War's preparations shall go ahead as I have described. You are dismissed, Ilyasviel."

Ilya curtsied deeply, then turned and walked slowly from the room, head held high. Saber fell into step beside her, Sella and Leysritt behind, and in silence they walked back to the tiny chamber Ilya used as her room. When they were there and the door had closed, Ilya collapsed onto her bed, shaking.

"I actually defied the family, I sat above them in the hierarchy, _I looked grandfather in the eye_… I think I might be sick."

Leysritt obligingly fetched a pot. Ilya didn't actually throw up, although it took Sella ten minutes of stroking her back before she felt calm enough to sit up straight.

"You were very brave," Sella said encouragingly.

"It was acceptable, for your first skirmish," said Saber. "I hope this attitude of yours changes, though. As the wielder of one of the finest swords ever produced, you should be bolder when it comes to standing up for yourself." She smiled slightly. "Not to boast, of course."

"It's OK, Saber. It's just the family, they always made me feel unwanted, small, like a tool. But you're right. Now that I have you, there's nothing they can say. You're the strongest. I'm not going to worry about them any more." Ilya stopped and considered. "Well, maybe grandfather. But everyone else can die for all I care. It's time to look forward."

"That's the spirit," Sella said warmly. Leysritt nodded.

"In fact," continued Ilya, feeling more daring than she had in years, "Ask me what my plans are for the War, Sella."

"What, um, _your _plans, Ilya?" Sella asked, confused.

"Yeah! _My_ plans! I'll win the War for the family, obviously, I can't not when I have Saber, and that'll mean I'll disappear by the end of it, but I can get stuff done while I'm there. I always wondered what made Dad leave, what it was about that boy that made him decide to never come back. So I'm going to go and take a look. Extra-curricular, you might say, although I suppose if he's a magus like Dad he could be a Master. Either way, before the War's over I'm going to have settled things to my satisfaction."

Ilya paused and took a breath. For the first time in _years_ she was actually looking forward to something. Admittedly that something was a war, and likely to be brutal and bloody and not turn out at all like she hoped, but even so it was finally something she could do herself, for herself. Why not have fun with it? She turned to her Servant, something having occurred to her. "Oh, and that'll need to happen before the fifth Servant falls since I'll stop functioning as a person by then, so try not to slaughter the other Servants too fast, Saber."

Saber inclined her head. "I will try my best, Master. Though I suggest searching for this boy near the start of the War, since I can make no guarantees as to the other Servants' actions."

"Right. Right! We can hash out the details later, about all the Grail stuff and what the plan is there, but we've got our own plan and that's what's important. Any questions?"

Two homunculi and a spirit shook their heads.

Saber put a finger to her lips in thought. "An achievement like this calls for a celebration," decided the slim Servant.

"Oh? What were you thinking, Saber?"

"… how about a haircut?"

* * *

The summoning circle, like most things Tohsaka Rin attempted, was perfect. She'd double- and triple-checked the accuracy of the diagrams, had gotten down on her hands and knees with a protractor to check the angles, had not only swept the space in her workshop clean of any dust and dirt that might interfere but also set up a larger Bounded Field _around_ the site of the summoning circle to repel any debris that might get funny ideas about coming back. Even with all that, she'd had to start over twice, and it was only that many because she'd been practicing drawing this exact circle three times a week for the past two months.

The shape of the circle had been finding its way into her dreams for the past week. On at least one occasion she'd idly drawn it in her notebook in class, her fingers automatically sketching the lines.

Rin had considered simply carving it into the floor beforehand and having done with it, but it would be a lot harder to repair mistakes that way, and besides, she had limited space in her workshop and summoning a hero from beyond space and time was really a one-off kind of deal. At least she hoped so – she knew she had a tendency towards what some of her non-magus friends might, if Rin was so sloppy as to actually show that side of herself, call 'megalomania', but even so she'd assume one wish upon an omnipotent artefact would be enough. It wasn't like there was anywhere left to go once one had already reached Akasha, the Root of all things, after all. And it wasn't like she was planning to _lose_ or anything.

As the heir to the Tohsaka family, Rin had had the expectation of perfection drilled into her from an early age. If she was going to do something, there wasn't much point in doing it sloppy and half-assed. With magecraft, studying, physical training, anything, there was going to be some method that was optimal, that produced maximum results with a minimum of mess, and Rin strove to find that in all things. After all, it stood to reason that any task done _right_ had to be better than one that was merely 'good enough', and so it was worth putting in the extra effort and focus which, Rin always thought, was mostly a matter of discipline in the first place.

She honestly didn't understand why so many of her classmates thought she was some kind of amazing prodigy just because she actually bothered to both pay attention to how she presented herself _and_ crack open her textbooks when she didn't have to once in a while. Frankly, compared to what she'd had to go through while learning magecraft, succeeding at school was trivial. Rin would have said it wasn't worth the effort – except that it was something she was doing, and so she would be doing it _perfectly_. Like this circle.

Yes, the circle was perfect, and with it Rin would summon a perfect Servant. So it rather broke her flow somewhat that she had to wait for slightly less than an hour until it was two in the morning and her magic reached its peak. About halfway through drawing the details of the circle the second time, Rin had been running mainly on stubbornness and thoughts of how awesome her Servant Saber would be once she pulled this off. In the middle of drawing a line, she'd suddenly remembered Kirei had mentioned, in the middle of one of his lectures on how she really should be gearing up for the War by now, that the Einzberns had in fact already summoned a Saber. Rin usually tuned Kirei out when she had to interact with the so-called priest, but she had definitely taken notice of that. Still, she'd sort of gotten ahead of herself and let her fantasies run away with her, and she'd forgotten that her favoured class was taken while absorbed in drawing the summoning circle.

Rin was a gentle and elegant soul, though, so she pressed on with aplomb. Well, she had had a brief tantrum at being reminded of how despite being only the second person to summon a Servant (she'd checked with Kirei as often as she could stand to listen to him, keeping track of which classes had been summoned so she didn't get stuck with Berserker or something; she knew no-one else had gotten around to summoning anything as of yesterday morning) she'd been scooped on her attempt to summon the most outstanding class. After that though, Rin got right back to work, and had resolved to make her ritual _perfect_; if she couldn't get Saber, she'd at least get the best possible Servant otherwise. The floor was wiped clear and the circle restarted, being extra-careful this time. Once Rin had thought of it, there were a couple more things she could optimise as well.

She'd fetched a couple more gems and placed them around the circle, on the basis that more mana couldn't hurt. She'd cleaned and re-cleaned her catalyst, placing it in pride of place at the exact centre of the circle. Everything else seemed to be set up, and Rin had wracked her brains thinking of anything else, before realising with horror that the clocks had gone forward just that day, and she had been about to summon her Servant at one o' clock, not two. With a shudder at the near-miss, Rin had taken a lot more time with the next circle, and it was finally perfect.

Which was great. Except that she now had about forty minutes to wait around before actually summoning anything.

Rin kept feeling that there was more she could possibly be doing to increase her chances in the War, an irreplaceable chance to fix something with the summoning ritual that she could only pull off if she started right now, not a moment to waste, if only she was smart enough to think of it, and she _knew_ she'd remember what it was about half a second after her Servant appeared with, with _brain damage_ or something. The more rational part of Rin firmly quashed those feelings down, and instead she took a breath to calm herself down and picked up the artefact she'd found, or rather had sourced for her from Scandinavia.

It was… well, on one level it was a smooth, slightly curved cone of what looked and felt like black rock, with an impressively sharp point that had drawn blood even when handled carefully. It might have been mistaken for a remarkably well-preserved dinosaur tooth, and this was in fact what it had been labelled as in the Riga museum it had been displayed in. Palaeontologists had, Rin heard, been arguing over which particular species of dinosaur it had come from, and what that did to the previous estimates of population spread and longevity. These arguments were apparently particularly enthusiastic because no-one actually knew where the tooth had been found originally, beyond 'somewhere in Europe'. The leading theory said it was of a previously unknown species of Megalosaurus, with other experts arguing for Ceratosaurus or Allosaurus – in any case, some large therapod. All of these guesses were wrong, and Rin could feel why. Prana, raw magic, emanated from it like radiation, revealing its origin to anyone with a hint of magical sense.

_Dragon_.

The most powerful kind of Monstrous Beasts, dragons were an extension of the World itself, on a level with the fabled True Ancestors. They were capable of generating ridiculous amounts of prana simply by breathing, the origin of the fire-breathing myth – although apparently fire was only one option for a dragon's attribute.

There wasn't much information on them, even in the Tohsaka library (though admittedly that wasn't as large as it had once been, many books having been sold off to buy precious gems to further the specialised Tohsaka magecraft). From what Rin could gather, even a weak dragon would be able to destroy armies of humans with little effort, using their breath to spread whatever their attribute was over an enormous area.

A piece of a dragon, even a long-dead one, was impossibly valuable, and had a role in some of the most powerful rituals Rin could dig up. For example, using a dragon's tooth just like the one she had, she could summon one of the Dragon Tooth Warriors, like those whom the hero Jason of the Argo had fought at Colchis (Rin was not stupid, and had added a diligent study of world mythology to her training regimen as soon as it became clear she might need to fight a Grail War someday).

Well, _maybe_ she could summon one. She'd need to research the exact ritual required, and probably supercharge the process using a couple of her gems, but given, oh, six months on the subject assuming no setbacks in locating information, she'd be able to do it. Supposedly it was possible to obtain an entire self-replenishing army of Dragon Tooth Warriors, but Rin wasn't sure if modern magi could do it, especially with only one tooth to work with. Even so, apparently they were quite formidable, and made excellent soldiers for the discerning magus.

In any case, the point was moot, because what she intended to summon instead was far, far more powerful.

Dragons were extinct, and the reason was because back when they'd been alive, the world had also contained heroes.

Rin had no idea which dragon this tooth had come from, which hero might respond to the call of their long-dead foe. But, she'd thought, back when the idea had occurred, she honestly didn't care. Heroes killed dragons. They weren't killed by them, or at the very least they managed a draw. As far as she knew, no hero's legend ended with "but then he bravely fought a dragon and was roasted". If you were a hero, you had survived any tangle you might have had with a dragon, and that meant you were a monster yourself.

Any hero that had been able to kill whichever dragon had donated her artefact was just fine with her.

…but, because Rin was Rin, she'd compiled a small list of every dragon slayer that had occurred to her off the top of her head.

Most obviously, Saint George, who was most famous for _taming_ a dragon but had killed others. Better to summon him in England or at least Georgia, his primary patronages, but that was a bit out of her budget on the off-chance it'd be him. Siegfried, or Sigurd, who had defeated the sorcerer Fafnir, who had transformed into a dragon (which considering what a dragon was, frankly sounded suspiciously close to the Heavens Feel ritual from what she'd heard of it, although she knew the Einzberns would never ever tell her anything about it). An invulnerable Servant, yes, she could do a lot with that. For that matter, Fafnir himself would be acceptable, now that she thought of it. Lancelot had slain a dragon too, right? Jason, yes, having killed the dragon of Colchis to obtain the Golden Fleece it guarded. And, she dared to hope, another Argonaut was a possibility as well – Heracles, who had outwitted the thousand-headed dragon Ladon to win from it the Apples of the Hesperides (well, by sending someone else entirely to do the job for him, but in the end Heracles achieved his aim and Ladon didn't). Now _he_ would be a Servant worth summoning.

In any case, it was time, Rin noted. She stood and dusted herself off, made one last check of everything, gathered a handful of gems she'd set aside for just this purpose, then stood, hand outstretched, over the circle and began her incantation.

"For the essence, silver and steel." The gems, transmuted by her magic into a silvery, viscous liquid, dripped from her hand onto the floor.

"For the foundation, gems and the Archduke of Contracts." More drops.

"For the ancestor, my great master Schweinorg." The liquid began to seep into the lines of the summoning circle, and began to glow an eerie blue-green, like lichen.

"Close the cardinal gates, be bound to the circle, and follow the three columns of the Sephirot to descend from the Crown to the Kingship." This was it, she was calling her Servant, reaching out to the Throne of Heroes itself (okay, via the Grail, which was admittedly doing most of the work) and, from a point of view, casting the most powerful spell she would ever cast.

"Fill and lock, fill and lock, fill and lock, fill and lock, fill and lock. Repeat five times." With each word, another drop fell from her outstretched fist.

"But those moments should cease to be once passed. Set." The light from the circle turned orange. It was light enough to read by, now.

"I hereby propose. Your fealty shall be mine, and my fate shall be yours. If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer me. I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world. That I shall repress all the evil in the world." Loose pieces of paper around her workshop fluttered in the wind kicked up by the power released. Rin felt it double, it was like biting down on tinfoil but with your whole body.

"One of seven heavenly beings bearing the three great words of power, come forth from the cycle that shackles you, Guardian of the Scales!" The light had turned pure, blood red, and at Rin's final command, it crackled with lightning. A shockwave blasted out from the centre of the circle, scattering light objects, taking out the lights, knocking Rin off balance and outside the circle, and kicking up a great cloud of dust.

It was exactly two in the morning.

Rin coughed on the floor, blinking spots out of her vision. As the dust settled, she looked up at the circle. Then up rather more to meet the gaze of the enormous blond man who had appeared inside it.

With a flick of his wrist, a bright white light appeared in his hand and hovered above his horned helmet. Cocking his head to the side, he strode a step forward, iron boots thudding on stone floor, and pulled a speechless Rin to her feet. After looking her up and down and apparently finding nothing to comment on, he looked around the room, taking in the strange equipment and devices as though he saw such things every day. While Rin tried to think of something to say, the man – the Servant – moved to inspect a sheaf of her notes, then toyed with one of her father's devices before moving on. He seemed… approving? The ball of light, she noted, stayed above the Servant's helmet.

Rin had never thought about the consequences of summoning her Servant in her workshop – it was only natural, after all. But the fact was that her workshop was a more private space than her bedroom, and all of a sudden there was an extremely large man in there with her.

"Um," she started, and nearly flinched when the man whirled, fixing her with an appraising stare. Rin tried to remember how she was going to continue that thought.

Finding a chair, the Servant sprawled into it, eliciting a creak of strained wood, and favoured Rin with an utterly relaxed grin, the ball of light moving to stick to the centre of the ceiling.

"Good evening, Master. I'm Servant Caster, and we're going to get on _great_."

* * *

Bazett Fraga McRemitz threw her bag on the hotel bed, and tried to resist the urge to come up with a rune to ward off bedbugs. Being an Enforcer for the Magus Association was an important job, one she both enjoyed and was good at, but it didn't pay very well. Even though she was the Association's representative for the Fifth Holy Grail War, and would be expected to keep an eye on things (both for information for the nobles back home and to make sure no-one accidentally destroyed a city), Lord El Melloi II, better known to her as Waver Velvet, had made it clear to her that she was doing so on her own dime. For a society of old money, with contacts at every level of British government and aristocracy, the Magus Association was a bunch of skinflints.

So, here she was, in pretty much the cheapest hotel room she could possibly find in Fuyuki city proper. Bazett could have hypnotised the staff at some swanky traditional place, and lived in the lap of luxury, but that didn't sit right with her. For one thing, it was a waste of magic, and from what she'd heard from Waver about the last War she'd need every drop. For another, the entire point of her being here was to prevent the War spilling over into the non-magical world, and using magic on some poor porter as soon as she arrived in Japan didn't seem to be playing the game. No, Bazett would be doing this properly, just like she did any other mission. She'd seen the consequences when someone got bright ideas on an Apostle Hunt, and had resolved to stick to what worked.

…even if the security would be better in a large hotel. And the bedbugs could be used as familiars to gain access to her blood. And there was an unidentified stain on the wall. And it smelt, just a bit, of cabbage.

Still. Bazett had made do with worse, and it wasn't like it actually mattered given how little time she'd probably end up staying here. Bazett sighed, and started unpacking. She was wearing her usual dark suit, with reinforcement spells and strengthening runes woven right into the fabric so that it could, and did, hold up to attacks by creatures that could tear steel with their bare fingers. She had a spare, exactly the same, which went straight into the wardrobe, once she'd cleared out the cobwebs from the coat rail. A bunch of sombre-coloured shirts, underwear, and ties went into various slightly greasy drawers. A spare pair of shoes went under the bed, disturbing a cockroach which scooted under the bedside cabinet. Her gloves went down on the desk, along with the paperwork she'd brought.

Bazett would be keeping the metal cylinder, like one would use to transport a painting, on her person.

There wasn't any casual wear, which was fair enough, since this was essentially a business trip. Besides, Bazett just liked being practically-dressed, even before the runes and spells came into it. Frills and embroidery were all very well, if you were into that sort of thing, but Bazett had never been one for frocks even before she'd been an Enforcer. Far more important to wear something you felt comfortable in, and the devil take anyone who didn't like it.

And indeed she'd received more than a few odd looks as she had walked from the train station to this place. Quite apart from the fact that her short crimson hair and matching eyes marked her as obviously foreign, she was dragging a large duffel bag behind her and carrying her tube, which could have contained _anything_.

Still, the elderly man who owned the hotel had been nice enough, impressed with her (admittedly utilitarian) knowledge of Japanese, and had insisted on carting her bag up the stairs and along the slightly dilapidated corridor to her room. It was a nice gesture, even if Bazett could probably lift him in one hand even before using her strength-augmenting runes. In fact, so far, everyone she'd met in Japan had been unfailingly polite and deferential. She imagined that would probably change once people started trying to kill her.

Speaking of which, she needed to touch base with Waver to let him know she'd arrived. Prior to the War, once she'd heard she was to be participating and had received her Command Seals, she'd sought out the former Master, now Lord El-Melloi the Second, and had asked for advice and support.

The room didn't have a phone, but the hotel owner was happy to let her use the ancient-looking rotary phone at reception. The hotel lobby looked like it was going for a sort of pseudo-Western feel – the room was laid out like a traditional Japanese inn, and was certainly small enough that you wouldn't mistake it for an actual Western hotel. On the other hand, the floor was carpeted rather than laid with tatami mats, and the furnishings were clearly Western inspired, with a couple of squashy armchairs and little square coffee table huddled in a corner.

Bazett dialled Waver's number, grateful that, despite being a magus Lord, the man had the sense to adopt some semblance of modern technology where it was useful. If you could call a phone 'modern', it had been invented over a hundred years ago, for goodness' sake. At least he didn't have one of those mobiles, which as far as Bazett was concerned worked by pure sorcery.

"…hello?" Waver's voice came through, sleepily. Oh, right, time difference. Early afternoon in Japan, so it would be, what, five in the morning in England?

"Sorry, Waver, did I wake you?"

"Um. Not really, I'd just dozed off. I was having an all-night gaming session, to tell you the truth."

"Hmph." Bazett had never understood Lord El-Melloi II's fascination with video games, or where he had even picked up the habit. She was hardly a traditional magus, she liked fieldwork far too much, but she still didn't feel it was appropriate for someone of his standing and influence to be so… frivolous at times. Like his Mystic Code, which under his predecessor had been a perfectly respectable blob of shining silvery death, but which Waver had modified into, of all things, a maid. Speaking of the first Lord El-Melloi, though…

"Well, I'm here, safe and sound. I'll be securing the room shortly to prevent any scrying or familiars from divining my activities, and I'll be meeting with the Church moderator shortly to touch base with him. I've got all my dossiers on the known likely Master ready, and I've brought no less than six of my, ah, equalisers. Any more tips you forgot to give me as to what I need to do to be ready for the War?"

"Sure. _Lighten up_." Waver's voice was amused.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're always so professional about things. Usually that's good, because it's all on you and there are severe consequences if you fail. But here you'll have a hero watching your back. Anything you can do will be pretty much inconsequential compared to them, so the most important thing is making sure you get along with your Servant."

"Look, I understand, but I can't just relax and kick back. This is a war, Waver. Sure I'll have a Servant, but in case you forgot I'll have six others out to kill me! I need every advantage I can get-"

"And your biggest advantage will _always_ be your own Servant. Make sure you don't squander it. My predecessor did – infighting killed his team as surely as the Magus Killer's bullet, and all because he just didn't understand his Servant. I was almost entirely useless in my War, I didn't do anything except cower behind Rider! But afterwards, as I pieced together the witness accounts and tried to figure out the story behind the great fire at the end, I realised just how lucky I was. My Servant and I _got on_, and it was thanks to that that I survived the end of the War."

"Okay, fine. But I can't imagine I'll have a problem _getting on_ with my Servant either. I mean, I'm related to him." Bazett looked at her tube, which she'd leant against the hotel desk, as if to confirm that it was still there.

"Oh? You found that earring at last?"

"…no. I searched and _searched_ but every lead I found led to a dead end. Eventually I just decided to go ahead and try without it. I'll use my blood as the catalyst, probably, or, you know, one of _those_."

"Why so coy? We both know you're talking about Frag-"

"Shush! The line could well be being monitored, and I'll thank you not to talk about my trump card where anyone can hear!" There was such a thing as information security, even though Bazett had already scanned the area for eavesdroppers, magical or otherwise, and even though if a listener had known English there was still no guarantee they'd be able to understand Bazett. She usually adopted a more standard English accent when dealing with her superiors at the Clock Tower since it felt a bit undignified when the elderly and respected noble magus you were giving your report to interrupted every couple of seconds to go "Pardon?" and "I'm sorry?", but Waver hadn't seemed bothered by her proper Irish lilt.

"Alright, alright. Well, in any case, I wish you luck. Just… don't be disappointed if he isn't as you expect. I know my Servant wasn't." Waver's voice had turned just slightly wistful, as it often did when he talked about his experiences in the Fourth War.

"If it's him, we'll be perfect together," Bazett said firmly. "I'll be going now. I'll not keep you from your _important_ _work_ any longer."

"Ha ha. Oh, Bazett, on that subject, something's come up in one of my students' projects, and we're not sure if it's gone exactly as planned or horribly wrong, and we won't find out until we actually get to Vilcabamba and locate the pyramid… anyway, I know I said I would help you out with this, but they've requested that I be on hand to deal with any problems, so I'll be out of touch for the next couple of weeks."

Bazett spluttered. "Oh, these same couple of weeks I'll be _fighting a War?_ Don't worry about _me_, I was going to be counting on your support and advice, I mean I'll only _die_ if something goes wrong, but it's fine, you go ahead and gallivant off with your students, I'm sure that's much more important than whatever I've got going on, it's only _seven heroes_ fighting over a _wish-granting artefact_!"

"Yes. It is." Waver's tone was dead serious, and Bazett stopped immediately. "This ties back into what I was saying before, and it's something Rider told me towards the end of the War. All of this? All the spectacle, the grand ritual, the fact that it's using fake heroic spirits as weapons? Despite all of that, it's not going to be the most important fight of your life. Like me, you've gotten into this because it's something you wanted to do, not because it was something you had to do at all costs.

"Make no mistake, it'll be tough, but if you lose and survive, you'll carry on pretty much the same as you were before. You'll find something to devote your life to, some path you maybe never thought of before, and the battles along _that_ road, the one you choose yourself, _those_ are the battles that matter. The Grail War is only grand because of the heroic spirits taking part, or more precisely the Servants, since they're not quite real heroic spirits. Despite that, you'll see displays of power and skill that no-one has seen in hundreds of years, you'll be inspired to try and match the figures of legend, and unless you have a _really_ interesting life it'll be the only chance you ever get to talk to a true hero, but that aside? The Grail War doesn't matter. At most it'll help you choose a path, like it did for me.

"If I hadn't fought in the Fourth War, I'd have stayed obsessed with making other people respect me rather than becoming someone worthy of respect. I found my focus and my drive, and I found people willing to follow me on my journey. Because it's a path I'm forging myself, rather than one I've let people decide for me, I value every victory along the way more than the entirety of the Fourth War. And _that's_ why when they ask me to drop everything and bring twenty gallons of petroleum jelly to Peru, I'll prioritise my students over you. Sorry, and all that."

Bazett didn't quite know what to say. Everyone knew about Lord El-Melloi II's legendary drive and passion for seemingly unconnected things, the way he'd pursue one path and take its lessons into furthering another, never stopping, as if he was approaching some ever-distant horizon or chasing an unknown goal that stayed out of reach. Everyone knew, too, that his students were almost fanatically loyal to him, and always ended up being awarded all sorts of accolades and honours for whatever area of study they chose to pursue. Since she'd started to work with Waver Bazett could even sort of see it herself, and had a professional respect for the man, eccentricities aside.

As far as Bazett knew Waver hadn't told anyone just why he was going so far, or what he was trying to achieve. Hearing his speech, though, she got the impression he might say the journey was more important than the destination… and she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel the slightest spark of interest in seeing just where this impossible man was heading. After a five-minute phone call. No wonder his students were devoted to him.

"I see," Bazett said, realising the pause had stretched on just longer than was comfortable. "Well, in that case it can't be helped. I'll have to cope without you, then, I suppose. Thank you, honestly, for all your help up until now."

"You're very welcome." Waver yawned. "I'll see you when I get back, I suppose. And, if you're interested, I might just have a couple of interesting jobs for you."

"We'll see. I might have other plans," Bazett said.

"Hah. That's the spirit. I mean it though. Come back alive. You have far too much potential to waste on a meaningless contest like this. Although of course I hope it all goes well for you and you're able to summon your ancestor."

"That _is_ the main thing, after all. Goodbye, Waver."

Another yawn. "Bye, Bazett." He hung up, and Bazett followed suit, putting the old handset down on the counter of the hotel reception desk.

"Sorry about taking so long," she said to the owner. "Calling my boss, changes in schedule, you know how it is."

"Nope! I've been my own boss for fifteen years, heh. Don't worry about a thing, miss. Is the room okay?"

Bazett thought about mentioning the stain, and the grime, and the cobwebs, but decided against it. It wasn't important.

"Yeah, sure. I'll enjoy my stay here."


	2. Chapter 2 - A Chance Meeting

"Caster? Freaking _Caster_? Hmph, this is the opposite of what I wanted," grumbled Rin.

The Servant, apparently Caster, quirked one blond bushy eyebrow. "Oh? What was it you were expecting? I feel safe in saying you weren't hoping for someone taller."

Rin glared at him where he sat, then realised she was still on the floor after the shockwave that had happened upon completion of her summoning. She picked herself up and dusted herself off, then motioned at Caster.

"Out. That's my chair. You can stand, or sit on the floor, I don't care."

Caster chuckled, but complied, smoothly rising and crossing the room to lean against the opposite wall. Rin sat down, crossed her legs, and examined her Servant. Tall, very tall; Rin's workshop wasn't exactly cramped even if it was a basement, but Caster could have reached up and touched the ceiling without any trouble. He was muscled like a bodybuilder, his bare arms roughly the width of Rin's legs. His skin was pale but leathery, where it could even be seen under the thick covering of blond hair. And there really was a lot of hair – even a slight fuzzy covering on the palms of his hands, and coming out of his ears. As before, Caster looked entirely at ease in Rin's workshop.

"To answer your question," Rin said, "I had originally hoped for a Saber, but that particular class was-"

"Already taken, yes. I see. So you wanted one of the other Knight Classes, or possibly a Rider, some famous warrior to crush your enemies," Caster mused. Then he winked. "Well, have no fear, Master, I'm as much a warrior as any of those classes, I'll wager. In fact I could probably act as your Saber entirely, and not bother with the magic, and still give a good showing of myself!"

"Somehow I doubt that, given that you haven't been summoned with your own weapon," Rin said.

Caster smiled as if Rin had said something funny. "Is that what you think?" he asked.

Rin gave him a look, inviting him to continue, but he didn't elaborate. Possibly he was just boasting, or nettling her. As a rule, heroes who fell into the Caster class didn't tend to be very impressive close-up, due to their generally having been unravelling the secrets of the universe instead of outside killing monsters in the fresh air.

There were always exceptions, of course – off the top of her head, Cornelius Agrippa was both an accomplished magus and a master fencer, and would suit either of the Caster or Saber classes easily. Even then, though, the Grail tended to specialise. No matter how good Caster was at fighting, he'd be _better_ at it if summoned to one of the other classes. And – Rin focused on the link she could feel channelling prana from her to her Servant – yes, his physical stats weren't all that impressive. They were certainly nothing to sneeze at, and would certainly surprise any Servant who thought mages were helpless up close, but Rin would be surprised if Caster could hold his own in a melee for long against those who had transcended humanity precisely because of how good they were at killing things in close proximity to them.

As a tradeoff, of course, Servant Caster would find magic came even more naturally and intuitively to him than it had in life.

"In any case," Rin continued briskly, "we'll need to make new plans, to accommodate your being a– excuse me, being _primarily _a magus and not a fighter. Annoying. My artefact led me to believe you'd… well, no matter. It can't be helped."

Caster glanced over at the circle where he'd appeared. The black dragon tooth was still placed in the centre. He hummed. "Oh, is that how it is? I wonder how that got here?" He turned back to Rin. "You expected some mighty dragonslayer, hm? Hah! To be sure, the tale of how I triumphed over that old black worm is one worth the telling indeed, but it's a long one, seeing as how that dragon started my adventuring days in the first place. You don't want to hear it right now, I think."

Rin crossed her legs the other way and steepled her fingers. "Oh? And what would _you_ know about what I want, pray?"

Caster's eyes twinkled. He hadn't stopped smiling. "I know you've been trying to get a rise out of me since you got over your shock at actually getting the summoning ritual right. All those little digs, trying to assert yourself? Seeing how I'd react, yes? It won't work – I've spoken with scarier things than you, who've been playing their games with mortals for millennia. And it's not necessary. I can see the Command Seals, and I accept you as my Master. In case you needed a verbal contract, here it is – you are my Master in this Grail War, and I'll win it for you. Feel like relaxing a little now?"

Rin sighed. She'd honestly just been tired and cranky, but it did sound like something she'd have capitalised on. "Fine. In that case, I'm going to bed. Oh, one last thing. I've been trying to work it out, but which hero were you?"

Caster shrugged. "I doubt you'd have heard of me. In any case, almost no-one used my name when I was alive. I was called quite a lot of things instead – Harbinger, Nightingale, Listener, _Thuri_, Thane, father…"

Rin gave him a look. "If you don't want to tell me-"

"It's not that. My identity as a hero isn't going to be useful to you, I can promise that. Fortunately, no-one else will be able to make use of it either. There _is_ something I was called more than anything else, but it's also the name of my Noble Phantasm, and for obvious reasons I'd like to conceal that as long as possible. If you need something to call me, just call me Caster."

"Fine," Rin said. "I'm far too tired to press the issue, in any case. See you in the morning, Caster. Amuse yourself while I'm asleep, but don't leave the house."

"As you wish, Master." With that, Caster actually bowed, and dematerialised for the first time. Rin made her way upstairs. At the moment, she wasn't quite sure how to feel, although 'awake for 20 hours' described a lot of it. Nevertheless, she felt a smile creep its way onto her face as she changed into her pyjamas and crawled into bed. All her planning and preparation had led up to this – now, it was finally time to start making her mark on the world.

And she really hoped Caster didn't burn the house down or something while she was asleep.

* * *

Rin woke to a thankfully unburned house. She was absolutely exhausted, which was really only fair given that she'd stayed awake past two last night, and had woken up again at – eight thirty? Shit. No point even going in to school now, she'd just say she was sick or something. It wasn't like her guardian particularly cared. That fake priest probably wouldn't even take an interest in anything less than Rin detonating a small bomb on school property, and even then only to confirm that she hadn't wasted a gem.

Rin would be the first to admit she wasn't the best in the mornings, unless you asked her before about nine o'clock, in which case she communicated mainly with a series of grunts and hateful glares. She staggered her way downstairs and into her living room with all the grace and poise of a recently-raised zombie. Under the circumstances, she could be forgiven for making it halfway through her breakfast before realising she hadn't actually cooked anything yet.

"Whuuh?" she said.

"Good morning, Master," Caster said, laying another plate down in front of her. The living room table was covered with a dizzying array of different foods and drinks, mostly stewed vegetables, though there was some kind of grilled fish and- was that freshly-baked bread? Rin didn't even know she had had any strong flour.

"Uh," Rin elaborated. She took a sip of coffee. "Urgh. Caster, I know we call you Servants, but that doesn't mean you have to actually be a butler or something."

"Not to worry, Master," her Servant said with a smile. "I was actually making myself breakfast, and thought I may as well get yours done as well. I'm not entirely used to the ingredients you have available, far less meat than I generally use, but I think I managed to whip up something passable."

"Yeah, it's…" Rin paused as the cotton wool currently serving as her brain finally got around to processing the signals from her tastebuds. "It's really good, actually. Where did you learn to make all this? Actually, hang on," she continued, as another thought made it through the wool, "why were you making yourself breakfast anyway? You don't need to _eat_. You're _dead_."

Caster laughed lightly. "Nevertheless, I can still enjoy sensations. The smell of frost in the air, the feel of snow beneath my boots… and the taste of a warming meal, freshly cooked. It's everything a man needs." He smiled at Rin. "Of course, the drain on you is slightly elevated, but that's not a problem for you, right Master? So if you would, please allow me to enjoy the feel of being, if not truly alive, then _corporeal_ once more."

"Tch. Fine. Demanding, aren't you?" Rin grumbled.

"Some have said so. To answer your other question, Master, my interest in cooking all started the day I bought my first house…"

Caster passed the rest of breakfast talking about his everyday life back when he was a hero, the various dishes he perfected for lack of anything else to master, the places he'd stopped while adventuring to make himself some food not knowing if bandits or wild beasts or worse would attack him as he worked. Caster seemed a natural orator, his speech perfectly timed and punctuated to keep even the exhausted Rin rapt with attention. He didn't backtrack or stumble over his words, instead leading his stories through a clear order so that each built off the previous. Before she knew it Rin had finished her breakfast and was still listening to her Servant talk. It didn't seem to be – she checked Caster's skills through their connection – it _wasn't_ some curse or force that compelled awe and attention and drew one into the speaker's flow. Caster was just that interesting.

Eventually, though, Rin had to think of other things. "Right, right," she said, holding up a hand. Caster stopped immediately and waited for her. "I get it, you've been around the block a few times. Okay, honestly I'd like to sit here and listen to you all day, but I shouldn't have to remind you that we have a War to win. So, tell me – right off the bat, knowing nothing about our enemies or the terrain or anything apart from the Classes and what's generally known about them, how would _you_ plan to win the War?"

Caster stroked his beard in thought. He took his time, pacing around the room, occasionally pausing to cast a spell, almost experimentally. Once, a small jagged dagger appeared in his hand, producing a frown from Caster, only to disappear just as quickly. Rin let him think. For the first time, the jovial, easy-going expression Caster wore almost permanently as far as she could see was gone. He looked a lot more intimidating this way.

Eventually Caster turned his head and spoke to her. "Tradition dictates that the Caster's greatest advantage is the creation of territory, wherein their magic comes easier and all factors can be tilted in their favour. I, as chance would have it, don't have that skill, but in return I have both of the two other Caster Class Skills – Summoning and Item Crafting, both at rank A. I suspect the latter will be our trump card.

"In life I created my own weapons, armour, amulets, most everything I used. Often they were better than anything else I could possibly get hold of. More, I was a master of the creation and use of potions and poisons, which gave me a whole other level of versatility. My summoning has stripped me of most of my best equipment; what I have is just what you see here. If I am to work at full capacity in this War, I will need to recreate my armour, forge myself a new sword, construct an entire new suite of amulets, staffs, and other items, mix up an arsenal of potions and poisons so that none know what to expect of us!

"I am not much given to boasting, so believe me when I say that I am the most versatile hero I have ever heard of. I can act as any Class you care to name, excepting only Lancer. Any way you want to conduct this War, I can carry it out like I have a hundred times before. I am your assassin, and none shall detect my approach. I am your warrior, having fought monsters and demons and worse before ever I learned to plumb the mysteries of magicka, and I need not rely on it to acquit myself in battle. I am your smith, your artificier, your alchemist, and I will make you tools – Mystic Codes, they're called, yes? – tools and potions made in the style of my homeland that will allow a normal human to survive a fight with Servants.

"Above all, I am your wizard. The elemental forces are mine to command, tearing apart our foes in blasts of pure power. I can control the minds of the unwary, forcing them to flee from battle – or to stand and be slaughtered like animals against my wrath. I can change flesh to iron and iron to gold, change water to air in my lungs. I can heal the most grievous wounds and let my patient walk away without a scratch, and summon the power of the sun itself to burn the undead. I can pull allies from the ether, raise the corpses of the fallen to serve our purposes, or even access the planes of Oblivion itself, binding all to my will so we need never fight alone." Casters voice resounded around the room, and Rin could feel the sheer power of it vibrating the floor. It wasn't that it was loud – Caster's voice simply had _presence_.

"You must understand, Master, that these are not theoretical capabilities, or mere potential. I have done each of these things a hundred times or more. I have plumbed the depths of the earth, and seen what lies beneath the lowest caves the surface races dared delve. I have journeyed to realms strange and fierce, have passed through the many lands of the dead. I have mastered almost every profession there was to master. The lords of the land listened to what I had to say, and I have held the fate of a war in my hands. I have killed, killed so many the streets ran red and the stink of blood remained for weeks after." Caster's hands twitched, his fingers briefly curling like claws, and the breath he huffed out smelt of iron.

"I've done it _all_. Through it all I learned, I grew, and soon there was nothing that could threaten me." Pure confidence and certainty radiated from Caster, an almost audible quality that had the same brazen air as a brass band.

"And," Caster continued, his eyes alight with enthusiasm, "I'll teach you to do the same as I did, on the magic side, at least. I've never had an apprentice, but I can feel through our connection, you're no ordinary magus. You'll learn to enchant as I do, learn alchemy as I learned it, I'll teach you to smith your own rings and necklaces and circlets, anything you'll need as foci. More, let's find out if you can use the magic of my homeland." Plates were rattling now as Caster's voice rose. Rin clapped her hands over her ears, but Caster's voice bulled its way through.

"Think of it! Magic no-one in this world has seen, less powerful at its peak but much easier to use than the magecraft here. Your magic circuits were never meant to function that way, I'm sure, but imagine if they _did_. We'll make it happen. Maybe… yes, why not? I'll teach you the Way of the Voice, too. I wouldn't be surprised if you mastered your first Word by the end of the War, with your talent!

"You summon me, and you aim to merely win the _War_? Think bigger, girl! By the time we're done, there will be a new Tohsaka magecraft! A new art, taught to its founder directly by a heroic spirit! With that, _who could possibly stand in your way_?" Caster finished. Dust fell from the ceiling.

Rin sat stunned, her mouth open and ears ringing. Shaking her head to snap out of it, she took another sip of coffee. "F- fascinating. But in case you've forgotten, we do in fact have a War to win along the way." Somehow she managed to keep her voice level and her tone aloof, while a little part of her inside, the part that Rin thought of as her inner 'traditional magus', jumped up and down with glee and made excited noises. "It's a shame you don't have the equipment you made while you were alive, if it's as good as you say."

"It is. I can only assume I would have it had I been summoned to a different class – at the very least, my armour and my swords would have made the trip. All is not lost, though, Master." Caster widened his stance, tilted his chin, and said in a voice which made the windows rattle again, "**Eternal Quester.**"

A shimmer filled the air around Caster, like a heat haze but for the blast of snow and freezing air that accompanied it. The effect increased in intensity, until within a second he was no longer visible. It abruptly cleared, revealing him now dressed in different armour – plate and mail of some kind of black material. His helmet had also disappeared, replaced by an intimidating black mask and hood. Caster's left hand now held the jagged dagger he'd summoned earlier, and his right held a sword whose pommel glowed with a clear, pure light. He was also surrounded by some kind of black mist, which instinct told Rin not to get close to.

He wasn't done, apparently. "**Eternal Quester.**" Again the miniature blizzard, and again Caster had changed. Now he stood dressed in fine robes, fur-lined and opulent. This time his left hand held a staff made of writhing tentacles, his right a staff with a blue gem at the top. His mask was of identical design to the previous, but blued silver instead of black.

The shimmer returned, and Caster appeared as he was when he was summoned. He looked at Rin's incredulous expression. "I led a full life, I did. Throughout my life – as I went on a lot of adventures, performed a lot of favours, explored a _lot_ of ancient tombs – I gathered quite a collection of unique artefacts. None were quite on the level of a Noble Phantasm, but all were useful. It became something of a trademark of mine, to be the one who used many different legendary artefacts together, and so my Noble Phantasm took form; Eternal Quester, a conceptual skill that allows me access to all the most interesting items I found."

Caster sighed. "Unfortunately, the legend doesn't seem to take into account the possibility that I could have made them _better_ than they were. I had the gall to take legends and think I could improve on them, and I was _right_. But I suppose my own improvements were just overwhelmed by the individual item's own history, and since my Noble Phantasm has not replicated them as they were, but as they were remembered, they are unimproved. More, since my best equipment was simply crafted by myself and not given as the reward for some task, it didn't store it. So, sadly, I will need to create some more."

Rin put a finger to her lips in thought. "Hmm. Caster, I'll need a list of everything you have and what it can do. If it's not quite as good as what you can make for yourself, at least we can call it a stopgap measure. It's better than that beat-up iron armour, right?" Caster nodded. "Well then. Wear what you think is best, for now. We'll see about getting you the tools and equipment needed to create your own as soon as possible. I, I also like your suggestions about training and outfitting myself. If I'm better equipped to handle myself in a fight, or at least survive, I can let you cut loose without having to worry about simultaneously protecting me."

Caster clapped his hands. "Excellent, Master. We will begin immediately." He turned and strode out of the room.

Rin blinked a couple of times, then rushed after him. "Wait, Caster! You mean immediately _right now_?"

Caster nodded, still striding purposefully towards the front door. The wooden floorboards trembled in time with his footsteps. "That's right. Time waits for no-one, unless you know what you're doing and then only briefly. No time like the present – let's begin gathering materials."

"But- but- I thought we were going to talk more, have a proper strategy meeting, not just hammer out a general outline and call it good!"

Caster looked down at her as he opened the door into the hallway. "Come, girl. There's no point in making plans all that detailed, you know, especially not at this stage of the game. We've identified our main advantage, all that remains is to capitalise on it. We can get into the fine detail later, when we actually have an idea what we're up against. Until then, trust a little more in your Servant's ability to roll with the punches. I've been doing this for a while, you know." He set off again.

Rin felt like King Canute (probably not a good summon, unless his people's belief in him really had given him the power to turn back the tides after his death). "You're not dressed properly! You can't go out dressed in armour, at least dematerialise first! Actually-" Rin stopped and looked down. "_I'm_ not dressed properly! Caster, give me five minutes to change out of my pyjamas, we'll get going, just _wait here!_"

Caster slowed to a halt in the hallway. "Ah. Well, why didn't you say so? Go and get changed. I'm not dematerialising, though. I told you I can still enjoy sensations, and that's what I mean to do. I'm not wasting such a lovely day by going disembodied through it all."

"_Fine_, then I'll, I'll find you some of my father's old clothes or something, just don't go outside while I'm not there!" Rin rushed upstairs and changed hurriedly, found some of her father's oldest and tattiest clothes, and ran back down to Caster. "Here. Get changed, you can use the living room there." With that, she chivvied her Servant into the room and closed the door. She sat against it to catch her breath.

She hadn't expected- well, she hadn't had a clue what to expect. It wasn't as though she'd thought imposing her will on a legendary hero would be _easy_. Still, though. It seemed to her like every aspect of Caster was designed with an eye towards domination – his height, his build, his voice (Rin shuddered at the memory of his speech; it had felt like her Servant's voice had filled the entire world), his attitude of utter confidence, everything made her feel… well, made her feel as though she was a little girl trying to tell a hero how to do his job. She looked at the back of her hand. At least the Command Seals were still there – given how biddable Caster wasn't Rin wouldn't have been _completely_ flabbergasted if they'd disappeared.

For the moment Caster seemed happy to follow her orders without complaint, but she was glad she had some means of absolute authority. If it turned out she and Caster disagreed on anything, Rin had a hunch they were the only way she could possibly exert any kind of influence over him.

* * *

Bazett, who had decided she couldn't put it off any longer, knocked on the door to Fuyuki church. She'd come this early in the morning so that it was out of the way and done with quickly; she did respect Kirei, and valued him as a trusted contact (a rarity in the backstabbing world of magi) but that didn't mean she enjoyed talking to him. The man had a way of getting under your skin.

The door swung open easily, and Bazett stepped inside. The place was just as creepy as she remembered, all shadows and oppressive architecture. At least Kirei wasn't playing that damn organ music again. Bazett walked further in, wondering where the man was, and considered taking a pew to wait before a voice came from behind her.

"Ah, Ms McRemitz. I wasn't expecting you until later. Wouldn't you have preferred some more time to rest before meeting up? I can tell you're still recovering from the flight. Unless you've come to see me in my capacity as a priest? I'd be happy to take confession if that's what you were after." As always, Kirei was smiling, and it was only because he'd had long practice dissembling that Bazett couldn't call it a smirk. The most annoying part, though, was that he'd managed to get the drop on her. Again. He seemed to make a habit of it whenever they met. Bazett hadn't worked out if it was his way of unsubtly reminding her how easily he could kill her if he wanted, or if he just got a kick out of seeing her jump.

"Yeah, I don't think so, Kirei. I'm all good as far as my immortal soul's concerned, and even if I wasn't, I'd go and see a proper Catholic priest and not, well, you." Bazett deliberately turned her back to Kirei and sat down facing the altar. "And there's no need to be so formal – call me Bazett, you've known me long enough. I'm just here to touch base with you before preparing to summon my Servant, get your views on how to approach the War, that sort of thing. You're the moderator, and I'm the representative from the Associaton – together we're supposed to be keeping a lid on this War. I'd appreciate any thoughts or suggestions."

"Obviously, I cannot give you any advice on actually fighting the War," Kirei said, walking towards a small door at the side of the aisle. "While remaining strictly impartial, however, I'd be happy to give you my thoughts, and of course be a sounding board for any ideas you might have." Kirei opened the door, then turned to look at Bazett. "If you'd prefer, we can discuss this in the private chambers. Usually I would conduct meetings with the Masters in the main hall, but since, as you point out, you are a fellow professional, not to mention a close acquaintance, I have no objections to, as you put it, 'touching base' over a pot of tea instead."

Bazett stood, and made to follow Kirei out of the room. "Don't mind if I do. Although I wouldn't say no to something a little stronger if you have it – aren't you supposed to have wine in a church?"

It might have been her imagination, but Kirei's smile faltered just a little as he held the door for Bazett and showed her to a small sparse kitchenette-cum-dining area, with stone walls and floor and the barest minimum of decoration. "Ah. I'm afraid I am completely out of wine. Rather embarrassing, I know."

"No worries," Bazett waved him off as she sat down in the wooden chair. "Tea will be just fine. Black, if you have it."

Kirei nodded and set about filling an old electric kettle, and put a couple of teaspoons of tea leaves in a chipped pot. He put an old ornate cup and saucer in front of Bazett.

"Hm? This is a nice teacup. I didn't know you were a collector, Kirei." Bazett knew she was being a bit childish by needling the priest, but she couldn't help it. It wasn't like Kirei didn't have it coming.

"Not mine, as a matter of fact," Kirei answered, unruffled, putting the teapot down on the table and sitting across from Bazett. "It actually predates my father's tenure at this church. I honestly have no idea where it came from originally. In any case, I was actually thinking of getting rid of it soon."

"Oh?"

"I am a man of the cloth, after all, and charity is my duty. There is a donation drive over in Mitakihara next week, to raise funds for an orphanage. After a cleanup of the church I find I have rather a few luxuries I do not need, and so I will drop them off when I am next there. I cannot in good conscience hold on to them while orphans go starving."

"Or, indeed, go without antique teacups."

"Every little helps," Kirei deadpanned. "And of course, I am so very happy to see the look on the poor orphans' faces whenever I go to see them."

"Why would you even be in this Mitakihara or wherever it is? I thought you had a job to do here. You know, supervising the War between seven mages and seven heroes." Bazett poured herself a cup of tea. It was, she had to admit, pretty good.

"As to that, it seems my colleague, Father Sakura, has become rather less eager to risk his life in the line of righteous duty since becoming an _actual_ father. So I go and help out whenever I can. But," Kirei took a sip of his own tea, "we are getting away from ourselves. Tell me what you would like to discuss."

Bazett sipped, and thought. The first question was obvious. "Who's already summoned their Servant, and which classes are they?"

"At the moment, only two have been summoned. The Einzberns have drawn a Saber, that just under two months ago, although how they have done so that early I cannot guess. And this morning I was informed by phone that Tohsaka has summoned a Caster."

"Einzbern and Tohsaka, huh? That's, let me see…" Bazett had spent time researching the three founding families of the Grail War, those being the only ones you could actually be sure in advance were going to be participating. Perhaps inevitably, given typical magus secrecy, there was little to be found, even with Waver's help and access to more restricted documents. "Einzbern was that little homunculus, right? The one they've been training up as their perfect little Master doll. Depending on what measures they've taken to load her up with tricks and cheats, could be tricky. As far as I can see, the Einzberns have a tradition of trying to game the system."

Kirei inclined his head. "Not that it's ever done them any good, of course."

"And then Tohsaka. Remind me, which one is the heir now again? I know it's not Tokiomi, he died in the last War…"

"My mentor," Kirei said, expressionless. "I feel his loss deeply."

Bazett winced. She hadn't meant to bring up bad memories, and Kirei was clearly suppressing some emotion. "I'm sure you tried your best to save him. He'd be proud of what you've done, I'm sure."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Bazett," Kirei said. He was smiling again, at least.

"Anyway, Tohsaka. His daughter, aye? Should be about sixteen now. Couldn't find much about her at all, minor-protection laws and such. Still, I don't anticipate much of a problem as far as she's concerned, with as little experience as she's got."

"Oh, Rin is quite the prodigy," Kirei interjected. "I've been teaching her; or rather, nominally I'm teaching her. Mostly she conducts her own research, and only contacts me if she's really stuck." He shook his head. "And even then it takes weeks for her to admit she can't get it. She really should learn to ask for help more."

"I'm sure she's very talented," Bazett said, sceptically, "but as I see it she's got next to no actual experience. Frankly my biggest worry there is Caster; and I'm about as worried for the girl as I am for myself with that one. Caster's supposed to be a tricky class to handle, right? The last one certainly was, from what I hear."

"I will pass on your goodwill to Rin the next time I see her. I'm sure she will be delighted and not feel patronized in the slightest."

"Oh, go boil your head. If Tohsaka can't control Caster then she deserves what she gets, I'm just saying it's _my_ problem if her Servant opens the gates to Hell or something because she was a naïve little girl and had no idea what she'd gotten herself into. Well, _our_ problem, assuming you plan to do your job and not just sit around cracking jokes."

"You wound me, Bazett. In any case, those are the only two Servants summoned thus far. However, I am informed that the Matou family will be performing their ritual sometime in the next couple of days."

Bazett frowned. From her research with Waver… "Aren't they defunct as a magus family, though? How do they plan to even conduct the ritual, much less support their Servant?"

"I would not presume to know how the Matous conduct their affairs. Perhaps they have been reduced to copying the Einzberns, and plan to use one brought in from outside the family as a representative." Kirei shrugged. "Although which self-respecting magus would consent to allying with them is beyond me. Perhaps such a representative would be offered compensation of some sort. I believe they have a daughter…"

Bazett's lip curled at Kirei's nonchalant mention of one of the more distasteful aspects of the magus mindset. Victory at all costs. She understood it, but still. She just hoped that this daughter had enough agency to make the trade a meaningful one. Bazett couldn't imagine herself not having her magic to rely on, to comfort her, to give her a goal to strive for. To be the heir to a legacy that turned to ash the moment it reached you, to be left with nothing more than stories and a brutal way of life… she shook her head and flared od in her circuits just to reassure herself that they were still there. She took another gulp of tea.

"So, Bazett, if I might ask, what are your plans for this War? You did not mention your reason for fighting when you informed me of your intent to participate, but for the Grail to grant you Command Seals it must be a heartfelt desire. What wish would you make on the Grail, should you be granted victory?"

Bazett took a deep breath. This was it, the moment she took all those half-formed desires and fantasies she'd had since childhood and said them out loud.

There was a school of thought that said that words said aloud had a kind of power, not in a magical sense but in that a vocalised intention had a greater impelling force on the speaker than a private thought. Words said out loud couldn't be taken back or denied, even without an audience – they echoed in the mind as surely as in the environment.

One last check, though. Bazett did trust Kirei, as much as any magus could trust another, but even so this information couldn't really have too much security.

"It should go without saying this is entirely confidential, and you're not to breathe a word of this to the other Masters or I swear I'll call you out as a liar for the world to hear."

"Naturally. I have never once broken a promise, and I don't intend to start now. I would never betray your trust in me in that way." Bazett studied Kirei's face, but he was entirely serious. Bazett wasn't the world's best socialite, but she could tell when someone was lying, and Kirei wasn't.

"Good. Well then. I plan to summon my childhood hero and ancestor, Cu Chulainn, born Setanta, using my bloodline as the catalyst to ensure that he is summoned. I want to give him a second chance to live, and live freely, without the geases and chains that bound him in life. Just to summon and see him would be enough. Should I win, I will wish that he be truly incarnated once again."

Kirei stared at her. Then he chuckled softly, and slowly built up to a full laugh.

"_What's so funny?_" Bazett snapped, with venom in her voice. If this man was making fun of her wish…

Kirei suppressed himself. "Oh… ah, I do apologise. It was not my intention to make light of your heart's desire, it is only… well, you must admit that hero worship and a childhood fantasy were not the motivations I would have ascribed to you. The image of you, so serious in your suit and tie, blushing like a schoolgirl when you meet your hero, is, you must admit, adorable. And for a banal tableau like that to be your reason to fight..." Kirei didn't laugh again, but his smile wobbled dangerously.

"Well. I'm glad you find my wish so _amusing_." Bazett stood from the table. "If that is all-"

"No. No, I apologise again," Kirei interrupted. "Please, at least finish your tea. I suppose if that is your motivation it is certainly not my place to correct it."

Mollified, Bazett sat back down. She sipped her tea, scowling.

"If I may," Kirei went on, "allow me to help you examine your wish more closely."

"Why should I?" Bazett countered. "I know what I want, and, no offence, it's not any of your business."

"Ah. For one thing, I am simply fascinated by what drives people, especially what drives them to such extremes as to risk their lives. As a priest, there is a professional element to it as well. But mostly, it is because I am not certain you do, in fact, know what you want."

Bazett shrugged. "Sure feels like it to me. Which is to say, to the only person whose opinion counts for anything in this matter." She drank the rest of her tea in one gulp, and set the teacup down on the saucer. The clink of china on china was a challenge. "But sure, Kirei. For old times' sake. Tell me what you think."

"Thank you." Kirei inclined his head politely. Bazett couldn't see his expression, but when he raised his head again his face was as blank as it usually was when Kirei wasn't smiling. "I will illustrate with a thought experiment. Tell me, Bazett, if it turned out some other Master had summoned Cu Chulainn, and you confronted him, what would you do?"

Bazett thought, putting a knuckle to her lips in concentration. "Hm. Am I fighting him alone, or did I manage to summon some other Servant, in this scenario?"

"Either way you wish," Kirei supplied.

"I see. Well, obviously I'd try and survive long enough to get my Servant to fight him if possible, since I'm no match for a Servant. In that situation I myself would go after Cu Chulainn's Master, and eliminate them as soon as possible. I'm… yes, reasonably certain I'd be more than a match for anything they could throw at me, no worries there. If I had to fight Cu Chulainn alone…" Bazett's hand sought the top end of the tube at her feet. "Even with my runes and Reinforcement, I wouldn't last long in a physical fight. Even magic wouldn't help, since Cu Chulainn was trained in the exact same style and with a much harsher teacher, not to mention having a lot more power to draw on.

"I imagine the best I could hope for is to force him, or possibly bait him, into using his Noble Phantasm, which would allow me to use mine. I'm not sure how those two would interact, they seem to have similar sorts of effects. Still, it should be enough to ensure a mutual kill, at the very least." Bazett frowned. "Not an ideal result, but I guess that's to be expected when going up against a hero."

"Very well reasoned," Kirei said. "However, I am now sure that your wish is not that which you profess it to be."

"_What_? How do you figure _that_?" Bazett felt oddly angry. She didn't know why, but Kirei's declaration made her profoundly uneasy. Even if it was ridiculous.

A smile worked its way onto the priest's face. This one was rather more triumphant than the usual species that Kirei sported. "I asked what you would do confronted with your hero. You immediately tried to work out how to kill him, or at least fight him. If you truly wished nothing more than his resurrection, you would have offered no resistance, ordered your own Servant to kill itself and proposed an alliance with Cu Chulainn's Master, or some combination of those options. Instead you sought to prevent his victory, tearing down your supposed wish with your own hands."

Bazett thought back. Had Kirei worded it that way? "No, hang on, that's not fair. You can't ask some vague question and then pick apart my entire motivation when I misunderstand! I didn't- you gave me no clue that co-operation was even an option!"

Kirei raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I often find that our misunderstandings reveal much more about ourselves than our correct inferences. There is often only a small pool of correct answers, but of the vast sea of incorrect ones we must rely on aspects of our personality beyond the mere reasoning to arrive at only one."

"Don't give me that pseudo-philosophical-"

"To put it another way," Kirei spoke over Bazett, "if you had _really_ prioritised Cu Chulainn's resurrection over all else, you would not have been so quick to assume you were to fight him. No, I perceived a very different drive from you towards your hero."

Bazett fumed, her clenched fists trembling. She wanted to punch Kirei's stupid smirk of his stupid face, but she knew from experience that that didn't work. Worse, it'd be as good as admitting he was right. "Oh?" she said, voice miraculously calm. "Tell me, what aspect of my psyche have you uncovered over this five-minute conversation?"

Kirei spread his hands. "You don't wish to resurrect your childhood hero. You wish to _impress_ him, and never mind how he ends up. What was- that's right, your first idea when you considered using your Noble Phantasm was to _force_ Cu Chulainn to use his most powerful attack. You only later thought of trying to bait him into it with words and trickery. More generally, you wanted to fight Cu Chulainn – not run away, not hide and attack from stealth later-"

"That's not where my talents lie," Bazett interrupted, a little desperately.

"That is fine; I bear no judgement on your methods, I only scrutinise your actions. Regardless – I surmise that your motivation is, in fact, to show your hero just how powerful or effective or courageous you are. Admittedly, the best way you might actually achieve your goal is to summon him yourself and fight at his side, since you cannot be sure Cu Chulainn would be summoned by another Master. Not to mention your own Servant might feel a little slighted if you spent the entire War pining after another." Kirei chuckled at his joke.

Bazett stared at her empty teacup, thoughts whirling. Kirei was _obviously_ wrong, there were a million reasons why Bazett could tell him to shove it and continue just as she was before… it was just that she couldn't actually think of one at the moment. Certainly she'd expected Cu Chulainn to be, at least _grateful_ that she was giving him a second chance. Certainly she'd always imagined, or more accurately fantasized, the two of them fighting side-by-side in the War, him praising her strength even in this weak modern world, telling her he'd be proud to count her as one of his companions…

Okay, maybe there was a kernel of truth to Kirei's assertion. But not more than that. It was natural to want to be liked, wasn't it? It was natural, when you looked up to someone, to want to impress them back, right? Hell, that was the point of a hero, that they inspired others! And there was nothing saying she couldn't _primarily _want to resurrect Cu Chulainn and _also_ want to impress him enough that he'd stick around after he gained true incarnation, right? Right. Which meant Kirei was full of crap, as usual… and she was in no danger by seeing what else he had to say.

"Say, say I believe you, that I in fact want to impress Cu Chulainn. Does that in fact change, in any way, my plans for what I'm actually doing? The reasons behind them, sure, maybe, if we go with your theory. But you said it yourself – if anyone's going to summon him, it'll most likely be me, and from there I'll just have to do my best to win the Grail for him and wish for his incarnation. It's not like there'll be a shortage of opportunities for heroism along the way. In short, what has actually changed by your pointing this out?"

Kirei hummed. "Well, I dispute your assumption that your reason to fight changing is something that can be so easily dismissed. But then I suppose you always were more focused on the job in front of you than the whys and wherefores of how it came to be. I'm not faulting you for that, mind you. Certainly hearing the same tedious tales of tragedy over and over gets wearing. But there's a further distinction. If you can consider that you wish to impress Cu Chulainn, can you further consider that instead you wish to _act in such a way_ to impress Cu Chulainn?"

"Um." Bazett raised an eyebrow, confused. "I don't see the difference."

"No? It's quite simple. The former requires that Cu Chulainn be present in order to be impressed. The latter simply requires that you internalise a set of virtues that Cu Chulainn admires, and act according to those. The saying about teaching someone to fish applies, I think – merely impress him once, and the former is achieved, whereas the latter requires you to become someone genuinely impressive as an enduring quality. Do you see what I am driving at?"

Bazett would be the first to admit she was a comparative musclehead among magi, but she _was_ a mage, and that meant she wasn't stupid. "You think I should summon someone other than Cu Chulainn."

"Correct. I believe that your hero would respect you more for forging your own path, and overcoming obstacles through your own power. He is the end goal – thus he cannot be part of the solution. If you seek to become a person worthy of respect by Cu Chulainn, do as he did and become a hero in your own right, in your own small way, so that if by chance you ever do meet him it will be as peers rather than as a hero and his protectorate."

Something seemed off about this line of thinking, but for the life of her Bazett couldn't put her finger on it. She hadn't felt like she'd had control of the conversation for a while now. Kirei hadn't put anything in the tea, had he? Probably not. The man was infuriating, and incredibly good at killing things, but he wasn't a monster, and besides, they were friends. As much as anyone could be a friend in the world of magi, at least.

"Just how do you expect me to meet him, anyway, if not here and now?" she complained. "Legendary heroes don't just show up every day. This could well be my only chance at all to meet Cu Chulainn. And, well, it's all very well telling me to become a hero in my own right. I'd think that I'm at least halfway there already, with how many monsters I've sent screaming back to the darkness, and if that's not enough then it's probably not possible for modern humans in any case. I reckon he'd actually be pretty damn impressed with how I'd got on so far. I can even use a Noble Phantasm, for goodness' sake! Surely he'd be perfectly impressed with…" Something occurred to her. She took a deep breath, and took a moment to think. She had something – a way out, perhaps.

"Hang on. This whole time, you've been talking like you know exactly what will and won't impress Cu Chulainn – assuming that _is_ what I actually want to do, which I'm not, we just skipped past that point in the conversation. Anyway – what makes you such a damned expert in what an ancient Irish hero might value or not? Which of us was raised in the culture his eventually turned into? Which of us is related to him?

We have no goddamned idea what he might or might not value, or admire, or respect. Seems to _me_ the only way I'm going to find that out is by asking him, and seems to me the only way I'm going to do that is if I go ahead and summon him." Bazett found herself smiling. She felt more sure of herself than she had when she came in. "And more than that, if I genuinely don't know what I want there's no way you can either, no matter how good you are at reading people. I'll see my original wish through to the end, see my ancestor reincarnated, and _then_ decide if it was worth it after I'm done. And along the way I'll strive to gain Cu Chulainn's respect, not because that's my secret desire or anything but because I'm just not the kind of person who'll do any less than her best.

"So nice try, Kirei, but I'm going to push forward with my original plans regardless! Stick your temptations up your arse and smoke them!"

Kirei broke into polite applause, the sound echoing flatly around the little kitchenette. Bazett startled, then deflated. "And that was what you were aiming for all along, wasn't it."

"I am a priest, after all. I am simply happy I could help you become more sure of your faith, whether that be in God or your hero or even yourself. Don't you feel better now that you have been tested and found yourself to be steadfast?"

Bazett nodded cheerfully. "Yeah, I do. Thanks, Kirei."

"Any time. Now, on to the summoning. Have you located a suitable place, and arranged a suitable time?"

"My mana's going to be strongest tomorrow night, I think, which gives me more time to prepare, at least. As for the place…" Bazett imagined the hotel room. It was a bit small to summon anything in. She'd have to flip the bed up against the wall just to draw the circle. Not to mention it wasn't exactly the most private of spaces, and the design wasn't as mana-tight as her workshop in London. No, the hotel room would not be suitable at all. Just another way the founding three families stacked the deck against their competitors, she supposed.

"I might need a little help with the space for summoning," she admitted.

Kirei nodded. "The church has a small chapel with a permanent circle inscribed on the floor, for just such an occasion where a foreign Master arrives in Fuyuki before summoning their Servant. It is also where I summoned Assassin for the last Grail War. It should prove adequate for your needs. I will prepare it for tomorrow night."

"Thank you." Bazett stood from the table, and stretched. "Honestly, thank you for this talk, Kirei. I'm glad to have sorted out where I'm coming from, and it makes me feel better knowing you're on my side in all this. After I've summoned my Servant, we'll talk about how we'll work together to keep the War under control, alright?"

"I shall see you at your summoning." Kirei began to clear the table, stacking the cups and saucers beside the sink of the kitchenette. "Please be safe until then. It would be such a waste if you were to be killed before you could even summon your Servant. Know that my door is always open should you need a place to stay."

"Cheers. Bye, Kirei!" Bazett walked out of the church with a spring in her step. What was next on her list of things for today? Well, she'd wanted to find a suitable space for summoning, but that was sorted now too. She could go back to the hotel room and continue reviewing her dossiers on all the known Masters and possible candidates… but then again, it was such a lovely day. Perhaps it might be better to take a walk around the town and check out some likely locations for conducting out-of-the-way fights. And if she happened to hit some of the tourist spots on the way, well, that was only maintaining cover.


	3. Chapter 3 - Negotiation

Lancer was generally a cheerful person, but he had to admit that this whole Holy Grail War thing _might_ start to get him down after a while. This was a problem, especially considering he'd come to this conclusion less than a minute after being summoned.

"Anyway, Lancer, you should just forget about that girl. I've got the Book, so I'm your Master, got it?"

Part of this was his surroundings. Lancer had loved the open sky in life, and even when he'd stopped travelling the world to retire to the city he'd helped build, he spent most of his time in his temple. As only appropriate for a temple to the element of air, it was filled with wide open spaces, gardens populated by short bushes, and large windows and doorways with no glass in them, the better to allow air to flow freely, as it would. The basement in which Lancer now found himself was somewhat different, to say the least. The little air there was here smelled stale, and worse than stale, as though breathing it was likely to start rotting your mouth. And there were the worms. Lancer was not a fan of the worms.

"Haha, this is great! I've actually got a Servant! Oh man, I'm going to show everyone what I can really do now that I've got some _real_ power!"

Another part of Lancer's unease was that he was to think of himself _as_ Lancer, rather than as his real name. Apparently, this was for the purposes of better informational security, and also so that he didn't forget his place as a Servant. In Lancer's opinion, the fact that he was a Servant kinda paled beside the fact that he was a person, with a perfectly good name, but it wasn't worth confronting his Master over and possibly wasting a Command Seal. 'Lancer' it was, for the moment.

"Anyway, I'll start to show you round the place when I get a moment, and of course we'll need to start you draining the souls of the rabble as soon as possible so we're as strong as possible when the fighting starts, but for now I'm going to bed, it's getting late and I have school tomorrow. Help Sakura clean up all this mess, but after that I don't care, do whatever. Ah, just don't start draining people already, got it? I'm your Master, and I'm going to be overseeing anything you do, so don't start without me!"

The largest factor towards Lancer's unease, though, was his Master. The first thing he'd done after being summoned was to introduce himself as Lancer, and then to give his real name to the girl who'd summoned him and ask for hers in return. (Lancer liked meeting new people.) The girl hadn't responded, and instead a boy standing on the stairs that led up towards the rest of the house (_well_ clear of the worms covering every inch of the stone basement floor) had waved some book at Lancer and proclaimed himself his Master, then had started on his self-congratulatory rant. Lancer had been confused, but the book did have the feel of what he instinctively recognised as a Command Seal, so he'd stayed quiet.

After the boy had gone, Lancer turned to his Master- no, to his summoner.

"So, you're Sakura, huh? It's a nice name, it suits you. Um, how's today been for you?"

The girl turned to look at Lancer, and he almost flinched, never mind that he was a grown man (with a beard and everything!) and had personally ended a war. Sakura's eyes would have been pretty, a lovely violet colour, same as her hair, except Lancer had never seen eyes so…dull. It was like she wasn't even _alive_.

"Hey, are you OK? You can tell me, I'm a monk. Probably. Well, I had to make up most of the ceremonies cause, like, I couldn't remember most of them, spending a hundred years on ice and then finishing a war'll do that to a kid, but still, I had a temple and everything-" Lancer broke off, mentally forced himself back on track, then continued. "Anyway, you can tell me what's wrong. You're clearly upset, why?"

Again the emotionless stare. The worms eagerly nipped at Sakura's bare toes, and a few started climbing up her calves. She didn't appear to notice. Eventually she spoke, for the first time since she'd summoned Lancer.

"We should clear up. If we don't, grandfather will be angry." So saying, she grabbed a worn-out broom from a dusty corner and made to start sweeping up the chalk circle and ritual reagents.

"Oh, no need, I can help with that!" Lancer said. He spun the staff he'd been summoned with – the staff that, he supposed, was the reason he was a Lancer and not, for example, a Caster – in a wavy figure of eight motion. A miniature but extremely _precise_ whirlwind gathered up all the loose particles and objects and deposited them in a single pile at the top of the stairs, small gusts blowing Sakura's skirt around her legs. A flowing gesture with his free hand, and the dank water dripping from the ceiling obligingly washed over the area, only to be banished to the sides of the room, taking most of the worms with them. The basement floor had never looked cleaner; at least, not in the few minutes Lancer had seen it. He supposed it might have been cleaner when it was new, although possibly not. The grime was so thick in places Lancer suspected it might have had something of a head start.

"Much better," Lancer said proudly. He grinned at Sakura. "I got real good at cleaning up when I became a father, you would not _believe_ the mess kids can create even before they learn to control water or air…" He trailed off, because his audience had silently made for the stairs and started up them, without even acknowledging Lancer beyond the fact that the job was done.

Lancer hopped up behind Sakura, orange and saffron robes flowing easily around him as he leapt rather than getting caught up by air resistance like one would expect, and put his hand on the girl's shoulder. He felt a violent shudder and drew his hand back sharply. "Oh, sorry. Look, Sakura, I mean it, I'm serious, it's _OK_ to talk to me if something's wrong."

"It isn't," Sakura said softly. "Complaining just makes it worse. And it's only what I deserve."

"_What's_ only what you deserve?"

"… never mind." Sakura started up the stairs again, only to halt in her tracks as Lancer appeared in front of her. It wasn't teleportation, just moving reasonably quickly while dematerialised, but he supposed it might look like that to someone with merely human reflexes. Sakura blinked in surprise.

"Look, Sakura. You don't have to complain about it if you really don't want to; hey, you don't even have to talk about it. All I'm saying is, if you need someone to cheer you up, I'm there. Want me to do a silly dance, do my entire routine of dad jokes, perform my world-famous platypus-bear impression? You got it. I'm _on your side_, Sakura."

Sakura looked up at Lancer. If she'd had any practice at making expressions, Lancer guessed she'd be making a sceptical one now. "I'm not your Master, though. Shinji is. You should be on _his_ side."

Lancer shrugged. "I'm on his side too, I guess. I'm on everyone's side, that's kinda my job, 'bridge between the human and spirit worlds' and all, you know. I mean, he didn't seem like a particularly _nice_ person, and I don't really get the whole draining soul thing he mentioned, but whatever, I'm there for him too if he needs me. It's just, I dunno, you seem to need someone to talk to right now, is all."

Sakura's not-actually-but-potentially-sceptical expression remained, as she rubbed her feet to warm them up. "You'd stay on Shinji's side even though he's not a good person?"

"He's not? Well, if it was something _terrible_ I guess not, but, like… I dunno. Where are you going with this?"

Sakura walked past Lancer on the stairs, and opened the door into the main house. "That's why," she said, almost as an afterthought. "I'm a terrible person, and you're a hero. You shouldn't be on my side."

Lancer didn't really know what to say to that. 'You're not a terrible person' would have been a good one, except that being properly honest he'd have to qualify it with 'as far as I can see from the five minutes I've known you've existed', which somewhat took the reassurance out of it. The thing was, Sakura hadn't seemed like she was exaggerating for effect. Usually, when people said things like, "Oh, I'm a terrible person," what they _meant _was "Oh, aren't I naughty for doing this particular thing, tee hee!" Or sometimes and slightly more seriously, "I did a bad thing once, and am willing to accept the label of 'terrible person' so I can excuse it as an unchanging factor of myself rather than facing up to what I did."

Sakura hadn't used it in either way. She'd said it as a simple fact about herself, without any self-pity or melodrama attached to it; she could have told Lancer she was a greengrocer and used the same inflection.

And so Lancer watched her disappear upstairs, presumably to her room. He would have followed her, but Sakura had made it pretty clear she'd wanted to be left alone. Well, for today at least. It wasn't as though Lancer would run out of opportunities to break her out of her shell, they were living together for the foreseeable future. Tomorrow was a new day, after all.

Mind you, it was _hard_ to stay upbeat in this house. Lancer had thought the basement was bad… well, okay, the basement was objectively worse than the house. But even so, the entire place had an air of decay. There wasn't actually mould on the walls, but it definitely looked like there should be. The furniture was old – and not that well-maintained type of old that made everything look ten times as expensive. Not the well-used and well-loved kind of old, either. This looked like it had been put in the house when it was built and then just left to rot, although there weren't any particular signs of damage Lancer could see.

He couldn't even say the curtains were moth-eaten. Likely the moths stayed out of this place just like everything else did if it could possibly help it.

Lancer leaned on his staff and sighed. What a depressing place. Maybe it'd liven up a bit in the light of day. Yeah, probably it only felt so oppressive and lonely in here because everyone else had gone to bed and Lancer was the only one still up-

"Welcome to the Grail War, young man," came a voice from behind Lancer.

He whirled, and when someone like Lancer whirled the air whirled with him, readying itself to blast forth like a self-contained hurricane at-

An old man, bald and wrinkled and leaning on a stick, wearing – Lancer was informed through the Grail – traditional Japanese dress. Lancer released the ball of condensed wind, and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, didn't notice you there." Although how the old man had done that Lancer had no clue – he could feel footsteps through the floor _and_ feel disturbances in the air, and still the old man had apparently just appeared from nowhere.

"A hazard of getting old, I fear. One gets so used to one's surroundings that they become part of the furniture," chuckled the old man. "In any case, welcome to my home, Servant…?"

"Hm? Oh! Hi, I'm Lancer, and I'd tell you my real name but I'm not supposed to, for now, so, uh, hi, I'm Lancer." Lancer bowed as formally as he could remember how. "And you are?"

"My name is Matou Zouken, grandfather to Shinji and Sakura, whom I believe you have already met. I will also be coordinating their, and thus your, efforts in the Grail War, as I have had some small experience with such matters. And they are both so very young and precious to me that I find I simply cannot stand idly by and watch them struggle." Zouken gestured helplessly. "I am only an old man, however. Do keep them both safe for me, won't you, hero?"

Lancer nodded. "Sure, I'd have done that anyway. Glad to have you on board, I guess." He cast around for something to say. "Nice house?" he ventured.

Zouken snorted. "Hardly." He began to walk along the corridor, and Lancer followed. "Once, when I was young and hale, this house, this family, was something to be proud of. Those ones there," Zouken gestured towards a series of portraits showing a series of dour men and women, all sharing the same blue eyes and hair and the same defeated expression, "were born into a household of magic and wonders. Not, I will admit, the most, mmm, _glamourous_ of magics, perhaps, but it was ours. But, the longer we stayed, the more our blood thinned, and now all that is left is a husk of what once was. The family, just like myself and just like this house, has rotted for too long.

"Shinji is my blood, but he has no aptitude for magecraft, none whatsoever. Sakura is more promising, but ultimately one strong magus cannot save this family. However, I refuse to let the Matou magecraft – the Makiri arts that were – die from this world. I _will_ see it revived, not in this fading form but in one that will not fail, continuing through the years… immortal." Zouken whispered the last word. "This is why I continue to participate in the Grail Wars – the promise of the Heaven's Feel ritual, the Matou family's only chance for salvation."

Lancer scratched his head, exactly at the base of the arrow that was tattooed on his scalp. "Uh, well, I'll do the best I can, I suppose. I'm kinda new to your whole magic system, though, so you're going to have to explain what you mean by 'restoring the Matou magecraft'. Do you mean rediscovering lost secrets, or bargaining with spirits for more power, or what? I'm happy to help, whatever it is – oh, and if you're going to be the strategist for this War I guess I should tell you what I'm capable of, right?"

Zouken paused in the middle of opening the door to what looked like a dimly-lit study. "All in good time. We will discuss your capabilities and other such tactical matters when Shinji and Sakura are present. After all, it will be one of the two of them who accompanies you into battle." He entered the room, and sank into a squashy armchair that was bigger than he was. Lancer preferred to stand. As a Servant, it wasn't like he could get tired just from standing around, and also he just didn't want to touch anything. It was icky.

The old magus shuffled through some notes, apparently looking for something. "Where was it… ah, yes." He dug out a sheet of paper with an official-looking seal on it, and studied it closely. "At some point, I suppose I must inform the moderator about your summoning. He will already know, of course, but there are traditions and niceties to be observed, and he _will_ need to be apprised of your class."

"I could go now, if you like," Lancer offered. The location of the church which acted as the neutral ground in the War was part of the information the Grail included in its handy 'get a hero up to speed' package, and Lancer would take literally any excuse to get out flying in the fresh air again, and out of this house.

Zouken waved a gnarled and dead-looking hand. "There is no need. The Master of the Servant is to present them to the moderator, ideally in person. In this case, I will send Shinji first thing tomorrow."

"Oh," said Lancer. "Um. Then what are we doing here, now?"

"Now? Well, I find I have trouble falling asleep these days, and so _I_ am reviewing things which may be relevant to the War, likely candidates, the records of previous Wars, potential Servants and such. You are free to do as you please, of course. Perhaps you could take the time to familiarise yourself with the house and grounds, or else survey the surrounding area. It is all one to me." Zouken coughed, a peculiarly wet sound. A single worm flew from his lips and landed on the carpet. The man continued as though this kind of thing happened all the time (and upon reflection, Lancer realised that it probably did. This world, wherever it was, had _messed _up magic). "Although, if you are not doing anything else, perhaps you would care to answer a question for me." The words were mild, delivered in that withered voice, but Zouken's eyes gleamed pale as maggots as they bored into Lancer.

"Hm?"

"What is your wish for the Grail, should you achieve it?"

Lancer took a second to think about it. There were certainly a lot of things he'd like to happen, but most of them were rooted in his own world, which the Grail probably couldn't do anything about. More than that, it… didn't _feel_ right, to Lancer, to achieve the results simply by wishing for it. If he'd learned anything over the years, it was that the best things in life took time; building a city, raising a child, passing on centuries of tradition. Skipping to the end just meant you missed out on all the fun along the way.

On the other hand, there was more than one reason to fight in a war. "Honestly, I'm just here to police the boundary between the human and spirit worlds." Lancer laughed sheepishly. "Habit, I guess. I've not got some driving ambition, but I'd like as few people to get hurt by this whole thing as possible. People shouldn't live in fear of spirits – even if those spirits are of their own heroes. As long as I can keep the War out of the lives of everyday folk, I'll be happy."

Zouken stared at Lancer, then cackled. "Oh, very good! Well, I suppose that makes sense. Magic sets us magi apart, and certainly I wouldn't wish for anyone outside the family to taint themselves with our particular magecraft. Yes, I think we can promise that. You fight for us and win us the Grail, and in return the Matou family, for our part, promises to keep our activities separate from the mundane world."

Lancer scratched his beard. "I sorta meant for _everyone_ to stay out of mundane affairs, not just us. If possible, I'd like to make that a policy or something, or a general strategy for our War, to keep as uninvolved as possible. I mean, I've gone through war before, and it kinda sucks. Isn't that an ideal of war, that it shouldn't involve civilians if at all possible? All I'm saying is, the same thing applies with the spirit world."

The old magus looked at him flatly. "Young man, your ideals are fine, but I cannot promise that our path to victory won't lie through potentially exposing mundane people to magic. I _certainly_ won't be able to say that the other participants will be so noble as yourself, although you are welcome to broach the subject with them when you encounter them." A nasty smile split Zouken's face – actually split it, Lancer noted, the ancient lips cracking under the strain. "Although I would expect that you do your best to kill them regardless of whatever you agree. Remember this _is_ a war, and you really don't have any options other than fighting."

"Well." Lancer sighed. "I suppose I can talk about this further with Shinji and Sakura. For now," he really needed to get out of the house, holy crap. "For now I'm going to go flying. Do that surveying thing, whatever." He strode out the room, and made it halfway out the door before hearing Zouken behind him.

"One more thing, Lancer."

"Yeah?"

"Please refrain from clearing up the basement as you did earlier, or indeed the rest of the house. There are reasons for things being the way they are, and you never know when you might disturb something better left undisturbed."

"Right, got it. Flying now."

Even five minutes later, with a nice evening breeze under the fans that made up his glider's wings and the lights of Fuyuki spread out below him, Lancer hadn't figured out how the man had even known about the basement being cleaned when – surely – he'd been upstairs at the time.

Oh well. For now, there was flying to do and everything was fine.

* * *

Rin's hallway was full of bags and boxes, and more were arriving every hour. She'd tried to organise it into basic piles divided by type, but every time she thought she had it sorted the doorbell would ring and she'd have to sign for _yet another sodding delivery_.

From a certain point of view, Rin's first outing with Caster had been a complete failure. They hadn't scouted out any of the areas she'd earmarked as potential battle sites, hadn't made any progress in finding any of the other Masters' bases, and certainly hadn't encountered any other Servants and eliminated them from the competition.

Caster didn't seem to see it that way, however.

"Yes, I really need this delivered as soon as possible… oh? No, I realise it's unusual, but I promise it'd be well worth your while… that's what I like to hear! Yes, put me on to your man as soon as you like…"

They'd gone _everywhere._ Caster had taken Rin to places she hadn't even known about, and she'd lived in Fuyuki her whole life. From rare mineral shops hidden on the second floor and only accessible through an alley, to construction material warehouses on the outskirts of town, Rin's Servant had dragged her on the most epic shopping spree ever.

"Hello? Ah, yes, I'm calling to enquire about bulk rates on your mineral water – tell me, this is straight from the mountain spring, yes? …wonderful! …yes, thank you… and if I can ask, does it usually get cold enough to freeze where you source it?"

The first thing they'd done was go to the supermarket. Rin thought that her Servant was simply hungry, or looking for more ingredients to cook with, but instead Caster had headed straight for the herbs and spices aisle, and spent five minutes smelling every single one. About a third of these had gone into the shopping basket.

"Master! Good news, it looks like I might just be able to create some decent armour after all! Oh, pass me that bottle of water, would you, I need to run more tests on the enchanting process..."

The next stop had been a florist, where Caster had bought what seemed like one of everything, and insisted on, again, smelling every single one of them, even tasting some of the petals. If Rin had tried that, she was sure she'd have been thrown out on her ear, but Caster's force of personality apparently translated into a ridiculous level of personal charm. The elderly sales assistant had all but written Caster into her will by the time he was through with her.

"Don't you let that one go, young lady, you hear?" she'd told Rin, flashing a positively obscene leer at Caster, who smiled down at his Master with an avuncular wink. "He's a keeper if ever I saw one, and no mistake –why, if I were fifty years younger…"

Rin had turned pure scarlet, and left in a huff. Somehow this only served to amuse the old lady even more.

("In case you were wondering, there's no need to worry about that, Master," Caster had said later. "You're far too young and far too female to interest me that way, I fear.")

Fortunately for Rin, Caster had been more than capable of carrying an ever-increasing number of bags by himself, but eventually they'd acquired so many things that they were in serious danger of breaking the secrecy rule simply by having the Servant carry more shopping than humanly possible. Also, Rin was starting to worry about the state of her wallet – the Tohsakas were old money without the money part, especially ever since Kirei had taken control of the family fortune. (Rin secretly suspected he was losing their family holdings deliberately, there was no way someone as smart as him could be so bad with money. He'd denied it every time she accused him of it, though.)

When she'd raised that concern with Caster, though, he'd chuckled, and pulled out a chunk of haematite they'd purchased at a mineral supplies warehouse – the same one Rin used to source most of her gems.

And then he'd casually turned it into silver, and then gold.

When Rin's brain started working again, she'd said (quite calmly she thought), "Caster. You _will_ be teaching me that spell before the end of the War, is that clear?" The Servant had chuckled, and agreed.

So they were free to purchase as much as they could possibly want. With that in mind, Rin had suggested simply getting their supplies delivered in bulk to the house rather than going and collecting every little bit. And Caster had paused, the Grail presumably updating him about this particular aspect of modern life, and agreed.

So here she was, with a house rapidly filling up with what she assumed were either alchemical reagents, forging tools or materials, or enchanting paraphernalia, while Caster sat in a chair with a phonebook and ordered more and _more_ things (although he'd disappeared down to her workshop for now, with a bottle of mineral water of all things). She hoped it all turned out to be useful in the end, because she wasn't sure if she even had space for all this.

"Caster!" she called down. "There's not been a knock on the door for about fifteen minutes, is that the last of it?"

"Possibly!" came the reply. "Did the box of glass vials get here today after all?"

Rin checked. "Yes!"

"Then yes, I think that's everything I could manage to get for today on short notice. Come down here, I have something to show you."

The basement was also full of boxes and bags – the stuff they'd collected while out shopping piled up and half-unpacked. Rin's (priceless, family heirloom, irreplaceable) equipment and notes were pushed together along one wall. Caster himself loomed over a rudimentary version of what he called an 'enchanting table', upon which the little glass bottle of water stood. It was frosted over with condensation – and now that Rin looked closer, she could see the water inside had turned to ice. It was odd though – the bluest ice she'd ever seen.

"Right, Master," Caster said, straightening up and picking up the bottle of ice, carrying it over to, of all things, an anvil. At least Rin now knew what had been in the _really_ heavy box, the one she'd had to get Caster to haul into the house. "You may want to stand back for this one," the Servant added.

"Why's that?" she asked, although she took a few paces backwards anyway. It was only common sense.

"You'll see," said Caster with a grin. He laid the bottle of water down flat on the anvil, and reached into a different bag for a smithing mallet, thick and heavy. He hefted it a couple of times, testing the weight, then brought it down _hard_ on the bottle.

As Servants went, Caster wasn't that strong. He was only maybe thirty times as strong as the strongest human.

The glass shards that used to be the bottle flew around the room, although any that headed in Rin's direction were stopped dead in midair by an almost casual gesture from Caster's off hand. Frankly she was surprised that they hadn't been turned to sand – that kind of blow was the sort of thing one expected to see from, say, jackhammers, not a human arm.

"Caster! What was the point of-" Rin cut herself off. Lying on the anvil was a piece of ice the shape of the bottle – the water that had previously been contained by glass. It was hard to be sure from as far back as she was, but Rin didn't think it had a scratch on it.

Caster nodded to himself. Then he dropped the mallet and held out his hands. A gout of flame bathed the anvil, and the ice on top of it, for five full seconds. When he stopped, the anvil wasn't quite red, but Rin could still feel the residual heat coming off it.

The ice, on the other hand, was still frozen, and still intact.

"What exactly _is_ that?" Rin asked.

Caster tossed the chunk of ice to her. Rin caught it without thinking, and nearly dropped it on reflex when she realised – but it was still cold. She held it up to the light, admiring the way it shone and glistened on a thousand facets. As something of a connoisseur of shiny objects, Rin thought this one was pretty darn good.

"It's called stahlrim, enchanted ice," Caster explained. "In my world, it was one of the best materials for making armour and weapons, but extremely hard to find – only on one island, and it only occurred naturally, deep underground, or else in the wilderness, atop mountains." He smirked. "Perks of being a Caster – since I have so much experience working this material, and so much experience enchanting objects in general, I was able to work out a way to manufacture it. It's not _quite_ as good as the real thing, unfortunately, and it does still require water of sufficient purity to make it possible, and producing it in any quantity will take a while. I bet I could iron out the kinks given time… regardless, it's still far stronger than a lump of steel that size would be. Since I doubt I'll be able to get my hands on dragonbone, and you don't even have ebony here, let alone daedra for me to harvest for hearts, this is our best bet for forging a full suite of weapons and armour. What do you think, Master? Do you approve?"

Rin tapped the stahlrim against the wall, just to feel its strength for herself. It wasn't like she was actually expecting it to chip or break, after watching what Caster had unleashed on it, but she was still amazed at just how _much_ it looked like regular ice and how_ much_ it really wasn't. She nodded. "Yes, I think this will do nicely. You have my permission to craft yourself whatever you need out of this stahlrim, if you want it. Hmm, if it's of such quality it might even be able to store mana like a regular gemstone… clearly I have my own tests to do. Anyway, Caster, try and include a basic theory on how you're transmuting ice into this in your notes, please."

"Of course, Master." At Rin's suggestion, Caster would at some point during the War begin compiling and writing down the spells and methods he considered vital for beginners, as part of his 'teach Rin everything a Heroic Spirit knows' plan. (At least, that was what Rin was calling it.) He'd explained that there wasn't time for him to teach _everything_ to Rin within the couple of weeks the Grail War was being conducted, but he could at least explain the concepts in full, write down everything he knew to be possible using his arts, and personally instruct Rin in the basics; the general aim was that she could conduct her own research when Caster was gone.

Rin checked her watch. (It was an old-fashioned pocket watch, that had belonged to her father She knew most of her classmates simply checked their phones when they wanted to know what time it was. This made Rin feel strangely uneasy whenever she saw them do it, and not just because of her general phobia of technology – using a communication device as a timepiece didn't sit well with her at all. Things should have a definite purpose, she felt.) It was now half past eight, and sundown had been at a little after seven.

"Caster, how would you feel about heading out again?"

"Already, Master? Didn't you tire yourself out already today?" Caster smirked. Of course he wouldn't be tired.

"Yeah, honestly, I'm sort of beat. But that doesn't matter. We did good work today, and got a lot more done than I was expecting. However, we didn't encounter a single Servant, running around as we were in broad daylight – and, more, I still don't have an idea of how well you perform in combat. We'll be much more likely to encounter one of the Masters if we head out at night."

Caster quirked a bushy blond eyebrow. "You… are aware that the War hasn't even started yet, correct?"

Rin flushed. "I know that!" She tossed her hair, partly out of annoyance and partly to obscure her uncomposed expression from her Servant. (It was a trick that had served her well countless times in school, and the fact that everyone there 'knew' Tohsaka Rin didn't get angry stood as testament to its effectiveness.) "But there's nothing saying we can't scope out the competition ahead of time. If we don't encounter anyone, great, we can lay traps or scope out battlefields or whatever, and if we do then we can eliminate them as a threat without the distraction of the other Servants."

Her Servant hummed thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the anvil he'd smashed the stahlrim on. "And if I were to say that our time could be better spent preparing back here, creating potions and so forth?"

"Then I'd remind you of just who is the Master in this relationship." Rin looked straight into her Servant's eyes, her voice was as cold and hard as one of her gems, and she put all the certainty and confidence she had into it. "You've led me round by the nose ever since I summoned you, and I'm not having it. I won't use a Command Seal for something like this, but I will remind you that it's in your interest to co-operate with me just as it's in mine to follow your advice. So, sometimes that means doing things I want to do when they're not strictly in our interest." She did her level best to hold Caster's stare. It was extremely hard not to drop her gaze and apologize for the temerity to tell him how to do his job, but somehow she held on, the moment stretching longer and longer…

"Well. If it's my Master's order, how can I refuse?" Caster said at length. "And it's not as if I can't get anything done on the enchanting front while we're out. I'll be waiting in the lobby whenever you are ready, Master." He took the stalhrim from Rin's hands and placed it in a small pouch, and put his materials away, then bowed and made his way up the stairs.

Rin let out a deep breath, alone in her workshop. For the first time since last night, she felt like the owned the place again. She went up to her room to get ready.

* * *

Caster was as good as his word, and was waiting patiently by the door when Rin returned from her room, dressed in her favourite red coat and equipped with no less than seven gems, as well as her Azoth dagger. You never knew. Caster himself had decided to equip himself with his blackened mail, and one of his weird hooded masks. He carried a round iron shield, and a massive battleaxe was strapped to his back. He looked decidedly menacing.

The two went out into the streets of Fuyuki city at night, and this time Rin led the way. She showed Caster all the battle sites of the Fourth War, those she'd heard about from Kirei after the fact – except of course the Einzbern forest. She wasn't stupid enough to enter _there_ without being at least as prepared as the previous Caster had been, although preferably less disgustingly.

She still missed Kotone occasionally.

No, she simply showed Caster the edge of that haunted place, and beat a swift retreat. The Einzberns were the ones that had beaten her to the punch and summoned Saber. It was entirely possible that such a hero already lurked within the forest, and Rin didn't want to face the most outstanding Servant on its home ground if she could avoid it at all, even – especially – when she didn't know anything else about it.

Rin also showed her Servant the memorial park, built upon the spot the fire had erupted from as a direct result of the previous Grail War. She'd asked Kirei what exactly had happened there numerous times, but he'd remained frustratingly evasive on the subject of the previous War's conclusion. All she knew was, there was something dark, malicious, and, well, _evil_ about the place now.

She didn't even need her mage's sense for magic to know that, either. People avoided the place if they could possibly help it. You'd get the occasional tourist who'd heard about the famous fire and come to see the park, or the occasional mourner who came to pay their respects to one who'd lost their life in the area now renovated into parkland, but they never stayed long. Even the birds would fly around the park rather than land in one of the misshapen trees that had forced their way up through the barren ground. It was the kind of place where you simply couldn't have fun, where babies started crying for no good reason, and where people started arguing and didn't know why.

Needless to say, Rin didn't spend very long there with Caster either.

Having said all that, though, there were surprisingly few people around even outside the almost-definitely-cursed park. Even taking into account the fact that it was – Rin checked her pocket watch again – almost twenty past one at night, it was surprisingly quiet. They'd seen people in the distance, but not run into a single other person all night. Rin was half-checking to see if she'd missed entering a people-repelling Bounded Field, although she was pretty certain Caster would have at least told her about something like that, when she noticed a late-night jogger heading down the alley towards her and sighed in relief. Then she remembered.

"Caster. Someone's coming. Make sure you're not seen." Caster nodded, and faded away, seeming to melt into the shadows under one of the trees lining the lane. Good. Seeing a gigantic Nordic man in the company of a teenage girl in broad daylight was one thing. Seeing them alone in a dark alley, with one wearing armour and close-combat weapons, quite another; and Rin would really rather not have to hypnotise any police tonight.

Rin nodded curtly in greeting as the man approached her. He looked fairly muscular, and wore his hair in spikes. He looked to be in his early thirties, but still had a couple of facial piercings, and- was that a tattoo she could see on his neck? Rin cursed at attracting his attention. Possibly not, then, someone one would want to bump into in, say, a dark alley – were one not a magus with a hundred ways of dealing with something so prosaic as a mugging. And were one not accompanied into said dark alley by a hero who'd seen off far worse than any mugger could ever be.

The man slowed as he approached. "Hey, missy, this really isn't a place you want to be hanging around this late. You just go home now, there's a good girl."

Hmm. Not actively malicious, then, which was good. Then again, he didn't seem to be leaving Rin be either.

"I assure you, I will be fine. Please do not worry about me, Mr…?"

"Nakamura. I'm Nakamura Yasuhiro, but-"

"Mr Nakamura, please just continue on your way," Rin said firmly. "I will be heading back home soon in any case."

Nakamura scratched his head. "Argh, no, there's just no way I can let you walk around these parts by yourself." He crouched down a little, hands on knees, to get on Rin's level. "Look, you can probably tell just by looking at me, but I'm not exactly a standup guy myself. Well, I'm mixed up with some _really_ shady punks, and I can just tell they'd not leave you alone if they saw you. I don't mind if you don't trust me, you can walk behind me as we go, whatever, but until we're in safe Fujimura territory I just can't let you go by yourself, alright?" He gave a sheepish grin. "That's just the kinda guy I am."

Rin was honestly touched. A yakuza with a conscience, who knew? Well, she'd covered a fair bit of ground already, she supposed she could call it a night. She opened her mouth to accept-

And was interrupted by a ghostly knife ripping its way through Nakamura's throat. The big man fell, cradled in the arms of the still larger Caster. Nakamura tried to scream, but all that came out were gurgles, and even those were muffled by Caster's other hand which had clapped itself over Nakamura's mouth. Caster's knife shimmered oddly in the moonlight as it was raised up, as though it wasn't entirely real. But the way it plunged its way through the helpless Nakamura's sternum and buried itself in his chest was certainly real enough. A few short seconds later, Caster had savaged a hole in the corpse's chest, made the knife disappear… somewhere, and yanked out the heart. Before Rin's horrified eyes, her Servant gulped down the heart of the man he'd murdered.

It had happened too fast for her to stop.

A man was dead because of her Servant.

She was supposed to be the Second Owner, responsible for those who lived in her territory, and yet she'd killed one of them as a result of her magic.

She felt sick.

So she _was _sick.

Rin flinched when she felt Caster's bloody hand patting her on the back. As if from far away, she heard his soothing voice while she retched. "There, there, Master. Let it out, that's it. That's the first time you ever saw someone die, yes? I won't pretend it gets easier, and I regret that you had to see it so close. But I honestly didn't expect you to distract our victim for me – it really wasn't necessary, you know…"

There was a gobbet of saliva hanging from Rin's lips, so she spat and straightened up onto her knees. She would have fixed Caster with a penetrating glare, but that would have meant looking round at-

-_her responsibility, the man she killed because she had assumed the Servant behind her was a hero-_

-so instead she fixed the pavement in front of her with a dull stare as she asked. "C-Caster. What was that. Just now. W-why did you- why is he-"

Caster shifted behind her, his boots creaking and mail clinking. It sounded like he was doing something to the… the body, searching inside the clothes for something. She wondered why she hadn't heard him approach as he came in for the kill-

-_just like Kotone was killed, and now she was the one responsible for a murderous Caster-_

-but he probably had a spell for that. A spell designed to sneak up on people and kill them and eat their hearts while she watched and-

She was sick again.

By the time she'd finished, she felt able to turn around and face her Servant, her eyes tightly shut until she was facing him. He was inspecting another one of his strange objects that he pulled from his Noble Phantasm, a satisfied look on his face. It was almost like a stylised flat model of the sun, many wavy points extending from a central disc, except that for some reason Rin couldn't fathom it appeared to be made from some black material rather than anything shiny or luminous. Frankly, she didn't care right now.

"Caster," she said again, her voice kept carefully composed this time. Just about. "I would like you, to tell me, why you did that." She did her best to keep her eyes fixed on her Servant's, and not, for example, down and to the left.

Caster nodded, and grinned. It was exactly the same grin he'd been wearing all day, but Rin couldn't help feeling there was now something ghoulish and feral about it. Maybe it was all the blood around the lips and teeth. "Well, Master, another of my advantages is that I can get quite a lot more out of a death than merely draining it for mana like another Servant would. Obviously I did that as well, and that was the purpose of eating the heart; admittedly a less _elegant_ method than others might use, but I'm used to devouring hearts to gain strength so it came naturally.

"However, there was another benefit – I can trap the souls of those I kill, and use them to create the strongest of enchantments. Limited to one at a time, unfortunately, until I can figure out a way to manufacture black soul gems, but at one soul harvested per night that's a pretty strong set of items by the time the War begins. In a pinch, I can raise the bodies of the dead to fight for us – they're not much against a Servant, but they could probably inconvenience a Master long enough for you to do something. Oh, and he was carrying about… yes, about twenty thousand yen distributed among cash, rings, and other jewellery, which is always helpful. The knife he was also carrying, less so." Caster stroked his beard in thought. "Yes, I think that's everything. I would consume some of his flesh to gain strength and vitality, except the boost is quite temporary and not likely to make much of a difference. …Master? What's wrong?"

Rin was shaking. For a moment she considered the Command Seals on her hand, but no, Caster seemed loyal _if homicidal_ and she didn't want to use one not twenty-four hours after her summons, before the War had even started. Then, after a moment, she decided this was _exactly_ what the Command Seals were designed for. With the slightest of mental efforts, they began glowing. Caster's eyes widened in shock.

"**You will not do that again, and will suffer if you try,**" Rin intoned. The words came out peculiarly – they had a tone of pure certainty she'd never used before, and wasn't sure she could replicate without using another Command Seal. They sounded like she was more sure of those words than of her own name, or the fact that _P_ was identical with _P_.

As she spoke, the Command Seals flashed red, one of them expending itself entirely to do so. A wave of red light exploded out from them and slammed into Caster, who staggered slightly. Rin exhaled. There. She'd messed up – _massively_ and _irreparably_ messed up – but she'd done something to try and fix it, now, and hopefully no-one else would die because of her negligence and poor control. She felt… at peace, at least compared to a minute ago. Not so much compared to two minutes ago.

Caster, by contrast, looked shocked, and hurt, and confused. And angry. He stared at Rin. "Do you realise what you've done, _girl_?"

Rin squared her jaw and met his gaze. It was somewhat easier to do now that she'd irrefutably imposed her will on him once already. "I've stopped a psychopath from killing people in my city. All in a day's work, is the phrase, I think."

Caster snarled. "You have removed, not one, but _two_ of our greatest advantages in this War! Bad enough that you prevent me from harvesting benefits from the people – the benefits I _literally_ just finished telling you about! – but you _also_ waste one of our Command Seals, the spells that allow a Servant to act beyond their limits and do the impossible! With that Command Seal, I could have teleported to you from far away, or performed a perfect sword stroke to remove Saber's head from his shoulders, or blocked a Noble Phantasm with a shield, or any of a hundred other feats that could have actually helped us win the War!" He took a series of deep breaths, and suppressed himself.

"Well, I suppose all is not lost. The wording was 'do that again', and that I'd suffer if I tried. I suppose I can test the boundaries of just what 'that' might be, as determined by the Seal, and simply endure the pain until I find a way of winning the War despite your idiocy-"

"No, you won't be doing that. I said it before, I've had enough of you doing whatever you want and dragging me along behind you," Rin said. Strangely it was a lot easier to talk to Caster this way when he was actively discussing subverting her orders and not being servile and relaxed like usual. "Let me explain. You are not to kill anyone unrelated to the War, in this or any other manner. You are not to harvest them for mana. You are not to harvest their souls, or eat their flesh, or, or do _anything_ to harm them, do you understand? Nothing! We are going to fight this War without hurting innocents, or not at all!"

Caster growled. It didn't sound human – it sounded like some beast was standing in front of Rin and pretending, for the moment, to look like a man. "Ridiculous. Why do you even care about these people? You have a War to fight!"

"Why _don't_ you care?" Rin retorted.

The Servant tilted his head. "Is there some reason I should?"

Rin spluttered. It was just so obvious to her that you couldn't go around killing people that she'd never even considered any arguments against it. "Because- because they're people!"

"Yes? So are we, and unlike them, we're going to be fighting a War. Look, I'm confident in my abilities, but the truth of the matter is that as yet we have fought exactly no-one. We have no idea what kind of advantages the other Servants might have, advantages I could have neutralised with properly enchanted equipment!"

Rin wracked her brains for something to say to a man like Caster. The events of the day surfaced in her mind. "Okay then, because even you can't do everything, you need a society to live in! Weren't you buying things off everyone just today? If you killed them all, you wouldn't be able to get anything-"

"I know that, girl! Obviously I'm not going to kill people if they can do something for me, or could otherwise be helpful. It's not like I'm a monster, killing people for the sake of killing. But someone like him?" he gestured at the corpse of Nakamura. "What could he possibly offer me, alive? I'm sure he's a nice guy, he seemed to genuinely want to help you, but he really was much more helpful dead."

Rin stared at her Servant, the thing she'd summoned and would be counting on to get her wish. "I see. I called you a psychopath before, but it's really true, isn't it? You don't have any real empathy for anyone else. What about when I summoned you? You said we'd get on great, but how could that be if you don't value anyone other than yourself?"

"We _do_ get on great. We make a great team, Master. Look, I honestly like you. You're smart, you're fun, and now I find you've got principles as well, even if they're honestly suicidal ones given the circumstances. Probably I'd have liked this guy as well if we got to know each other. But we have a quest, and we need to be willing to sacrifice in the service of it, or what's the point in even setting goals?"

Rin pointed at Nakamura. "What about _his_ goals? Doesn't he get a chance to complete his 'quest' or whatever too? What about any dependents he has? Did you even think he might have a wife, or kids?"

Caster shrugged. "We can't all get what we want. Besides," he spread his arms expansively, "we're heroes. I've saved the world – my world, at least – more than once. I believe, with my teachings, you can save yours too, if the time should come that it becomes imperilled. You've certainly got the drive for it, the skill; even your principles can be a tool to push you further, so long as you don't let them get in your way like you've done tonight. You're someone I'd honestly be pleased to go adventuring with, and proud to call my Master."

"But if I wasn't your Master, and I stood in the way of you doing what you thought you needed to do-"

"I'd kill you, of course. You'd do the same, I'm sure – look how easily you crippled me to attain your goal of stopping me hurting anyone. You even added a clause to make me suffer if I tried! And all this despite the fact it would hinder your plans for the War."

Rin glared at her Servant. "We are _not_ the same."

"Yes, we are. Master." Caster bowed low.

Rin's mouth opened. Rin's mouth closed.

The hero who didn't care about human life and the magus who did remained in the alley for some time, neither saying a word.

At length, the hero said, "For what it's worth, I do apologise for disappointing you, Master. If I had known you would react so poorly, I would never have confronted you with the methods necessary to win the War quite so harshly. My information from the Grail on your magical practices led me to believe a modern magus would basically agree with my principles, so I was not as careful of your feelings as I could have been. I _am_ sorry for hurting you."

The magus nodded, slowly. "I notice you still haven't apologised for killing a man on my watch."

Caster shook his head. "I won't apologise for that. It _is_ necessary, no matter what you think, and I won't believe that my way is wrong, when it saved my world."

Rin sighed, and turned away. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically. She began the long walk back home. Without looking back, she called, "Caster. Take care of the body. Leave no trace." She heard the noise of flames behind her, and her shadow stretched out in front of her, flickering and wavering. It was a lot taller than she was, and although she could feel heat on her back she couldn't see a single part of herself that was illuminated. There was probably a metaphor in there.

Maybe she should ask Nakamura what he thought it was.

"Oh, and Caster."

"Yes, Master?"

"Henceforth whenever you leave my sight I will expect a full report on what you have been doing. If I find you have lied to me in one of these reports I will enforce truth using my second Command Seal. As your Master, I expect you to conduct yourself as I command, and I command that you have a care for both innocent casualties and collateral damage. Again, I will enforce obedience via Command Seal if necessary."

She must have been a good forty metres from Nakamura's corpse at this point, but she could still hear Caster's voice as though he were standing next to her. "As you wish, Master. Your loyal Servant obeys."

Rin sighed. Her breath came as a huff of white mist in the night air. It was beginning to get cold again, and even though the day had been sunny there was a hint of frost on the wind.

"When you are finished," Rin continued, "you are to dematerialise and meet me in the workshop. There we will see if we can find a solution to the problem of harvesting souls that does not involve murder, and you will begin teaching me the basics of your style of enchantment."

She couldn't see her Servant's face, but she'd seen his carefree grin often enough over the last twenty four hours to know what it sounded like when he spoke through it. "Of course, Master."

Tohsaka Rin, Master of Caster, shuddered, and walked home.

* * *

Servant Stats:

_Class: _Caster

_Name: _[Undisclosed]

_Master:_ Tohsaka Rin

_Alignment: _Neutral Evil

_Stats_:

Strength – C

Endurance – C

Agility – C

Mana – A

Luck – B

Noble Phantasm – A

_Class Skills: _Item Creation A, Summoning A. Note: By sacrificing the Territory Creation skill, using both item creation and summoning magic as Class Skills is possible.

_Personal Skills: _Magecraft (Fake) – A+. Although Caster possesses no magic circuits, the magic of his homeland can be used in similar ways to magecraft, so he has obtained an imitation of this skill.

Expert of Many Specialisations – A. Caster has travelled far and wide and is skilled in many professions. Among other skills he can use espionage, assassination, presence concealment, thievery, persuasion, smithing, mining, wilderness survival, mountain climbing, cookery, carpentry, construction and leadership.

?

?

Magic Resistance – C.

_Noble Phantasm:_ **Eternal Quester** \- B. In life Caster undertook many quests and was rewarded many times with legendary items, often themselves on the level of an Artificial Phantasm. Throughout his life he became famous for gathering them all together and having so many legends centred upon him. By activating this conceptual Noble Phantasm, Caster may equip and use any of the Daedric Artefacts, dragon priest masks, and other unique items he collected throughout his travels.

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	4. Chapter 4 - Credens Justitiam

It was the evening of the day after Bazett had touched base with Kirei, and, with any luck, by now he'd have prepared the space he'd mentioned for summoning. Bazett was wary of ever assuming that she was 'ready' – in her experience, if you weren't massively over-prepared when embarking on something like an Apostle Hunt or Sealing Designate Enforcer squad, it was only a matter of time until something went wrong and then you were dead at best – but even so, she _felt_ ready. Quite a lot of this was due to the time of day – the evening, half past nine specifically, was the time her magic was strongest.

A lot of Enforcers didn't really pay attention to that sort of thing. It wasn't as if you could choose exactly when you were going to have to fight, and if you could why weren't you choosing to attack as soon as possible to gain initiative? But Bazett's style of engraving runes lent itself well to being particular about timing, and runes cast when you were stronger would be just that little bit more powerful – permanently, or else for as long as they lasted.

On the other hand, it was possible to be _too_ particular about it. It wasn't like Bazett was going to try to summon Cu Chulainn at the dot of half past nine, that would just be madness – it couldn't possibly make _that_ much of a difference.

Bazett had spent yesterday, and the day before, doing her best to memorise the layout of the town – she'd never been to Fuyuki at all before, and she didn't want to get chased down a dead end alley, for instance. Even just knowing where most of the landmarks were in relation to each other – the church, her base of operations, the financial district with its skyscrapers, the river dividing everything and the bridge that was the main passage across – was worth doing.

She'd also spent a bit of time rehashing her preliminary strategies on how to fight a stereotypical example of each Servant. Obviously she'd be a goddamn idiot to rely on them without even looking at the capabilities of each Servant, but, well, stereotypes came about for a reason. You wouldn't usually plan to fight, say, an Archer that fought close in with swords, but would instead keep an eye on which high points were visible from most of the city, and plan an assault on a potential sniper's nest, on the basis that that would be useful to do with a lot more potential Archers than just the rare one that _might_ fight close-up. (Jack Churchill, for example, to name a weak but possible close-range-capable Archer.)

But, in the end, there was a limited amount she could do before actually summoning her Servant. She just had to console herself with the fact that the War hadn't actually started yet, and that she'd at least managed to get a little prep work done. She imagined a lot of the other Masters might not even bother doing that much, instead just arrogantly assuming that their Servant would roll over all opposition. It was the natural extension of what some of the more traditionalist magi already believed about their magic, that if you had it then it automatically made tactics and planning worthless. It _was_ true to a certain extent – magic, if used right, would make any amount of clever manoeuvring and trickery irrelevant, by virtue of completely changing the rules of the game.

Still, those magi that relied on it to the exclusion of all else never lasted long.

Which was why, when Bazett raised a hand to knock on the church door, it was inside a glove so festooned with runes it was almost more magic than leather, although they were largely invisible until activated – partly to help keep the secret of magecraft from mundane folk, mostly so that no-one could guess her abilities without her actually using them. She'd come loaded for proverbial bear, and was not only in her reinforced suit but had also brought her best pair of gloves and boots, the ones enhanced with force-multiplication spells, durability enhancements, enchantments to minimize drag and preserve momentum, the works. It was entirely possible some unscrupulous Master was scoping out the church and looking for new pairings presenting themselves to the moderator in the hopes of scoring an easy fight. (It was also possible that Bazett had wanted to make a good impression on Cu Chulainn by advertising the fact that she was also conversant in runecraft, but if there hadn't been a good practical reason for it as well she wouldn't have done it.)

The door creaked open, and Kirei stood there. "Ah, Bazett." He bowed and gestured inside. "Come. We will conduct the ritual in the crypt – a good space for working magic. Nice strong stone walls, not too large, and nicely atmospheric, if you feel you require such things to aid you in attaining the right mindset."

Magus Association Enforcer, Bazett Fraga McRemitz looked at him flatly. "Yes, Kirei, I am definitely the type of person to stand on ceremony."

Kirei smirked. He probably would have said it was a disarming smile meant to put his parishioners at ease, but to Bazett's eyes it was definitely a smirk. "Well then, how about a cup of tea before we start? We can go through all the formalities while we wait."

"Now you're talking my language." Bazett checked the time from the clock on the wall. There was still a while to go until she could think about performing the ritual. (Arriving early was also part of preparing well.)

Kirei led Bazett through to the kitchen area they'd been in before. Last time it had been daylight, but this time the electric lights, covered by old-style lampshades, gave the place a warm and homey feeling. Bazett assumed one of the parishioners had spruced the place up as a favour to the community, because if Kirei had actually chosen to make the place comfortable for others she'd eat her own boot. Once they were seated and properly supplied with hot beverages (Bazett had the same cup as before, she noted), Kirei began.

"Are you aware of the nature of the conflict you have now found yourself in?"

"Yes, and you know that," Bazett groused. "Are you sure you shouldn't be doing this once I've summoned my Servant?"

Kirei shrugged apologetically. "Perhaps I simply want to talk to you without a Servant interrupting. There is a reason the Servant is traditionally left outside the church while I talk to the Master alone, you know. Well, besides the obvious security risk, that is."

Bazett settled. "Fair enough."

"Next: What wish would you make upon the Grail, should you attain victory? I should stress that this question is optional."

"To summon Cu Chulainn and give him a second chance at life. You know _that_ as well," Bazett sighed.

Another shrug. The man had irritatingly expressive shoulders. "I am required to ask. You would be surprised how many enter the War and don't even know what wish they are fighting for. In any case, I am also to remind you that reaching Akasha is possible through the Grail. I find myself genuinely unsure – is that something you would desire, Bazett? It does not seem like you, but you are a magus, after all."

It was certainly a thought. Unlimited knowledge – and knowledge was power, especially when you were a magus. Any of those idiots from the Association would give their eyeteeth for a chance like hers, if you put it that way. The 'War of heroes' part really was incidental compared to the quest for ultimate understanding… Still, Kirei was right. It didn't seem like her. And to achieve it she'd have to give up her chance to truly incarnate Cu Chulainn. On the other hand…

"Eh, sure," she said. "If I win, I'll open the door to the Root, gain infinite knowledge, use that knowledge to incarnate Cu Chulainn and then live as a goddess with him for the rest of my days, which is to say forever. I was just going to wish up a new body for him, but your way is much better." She grinned brightly at Kirei. "Any more questions?"

Kirei looked somewhat taken aback, just for a second. It was a moment of victory, as far as Bazett was concerned.

"Just one final question, then. Despite the somewhat spectacular nature of the War, will you do your best to keep it from revealing the nature of magic to the people of Fuyuki?"

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Did you really need to call me here just to ask me things you already know the answer to? _Yes_, I'll not do anything that reveals the existence of magic, _yes_ I'll help out with any efforts towards concealing the War, and _yes_, I'll remove any witnesses if need be. This is _why I'm here_, Kirei." Bazett scowled. Honestly, if she didn't know better she'd think Kirei was being deliberately irritating. She could see how the series of questions might be useful to someone who didn't really know how the War worked, or especially that type of magus who didn't really associate herself with others, but _really_. She'd known Kirei on and off for years now, he should know she'd take something like this seriously. "Can we go and summon my ancestor now?"

Kirei had his smirk back in place. Dammit. It always came back, sure as sunrise, whenever he managed to get a rise out of her, and Bazett realized she'd been a little annoyed. She composed herself.

"Oh? Without even finishing your tea?" Kirei tutted. If a sound could be described as 'punchable', this was punchable. "Wasting the gifts we have through good fortune received is, if not an outright sin, surely to be discouraged, Bazett."

"_Fine I will take the tea let's just go,_" Bazett snapped. She stood and swept from the room, bringing her cup and saucer with her. She made it to the main church hall before realizing she didn't actually know where this crypt was.

Chuckling, Kirei led Bazett through the main area of the church, to the far wall, then through a little side door. From there, a little stone passage led downwards and curved round – Bazett guessed they were somewhere below and behind the altar.

The crypt was… well, not what Bazett would have imagined a crypt to be. Possibly she'd been reading too many books, but she had half-expected grim-looking stone walls, no lighting except from ornate candelsticks, and recesses in the wall with marble… long headstone things? Whatever those horizontal grave markers were, Bazett had expected them.

Instead, the crypt was lit with the same electric lights as the rest of the church, and was decorated with slightly peeling white wall paint. There were a few recesses along the wall, with artwork depicting some religious scenes or other. The floor _was_ stone, but had recently been covered with a large rug, although this was now piled up in one corner, to make room for the summoning circle drawn on the floor. Bazett recognized it from when she'd expected to have to draw it herself, although she was glad that hadn't become necessary – it looked _very _complicated.

"This is the room," Kirei explained, unnecessarily. "It is the best spot in the whole church as far as keeping mana contained goes." He broke off and looked around. "Once I close the door, that is." He shut the door leading to the stone passage from which they'd come behind them, then locked it. Bazett didn't ask why – as far as mana was concerned, a locked door held an entirely different meaning than an unlocked one, and would contain the flow of magic much better. On the other hand…

"You're staying in the room?" Bazett asked Kirei, who had indeed stayed on the crypt with her, rather than locking her in alone to get on with it like she'd expected.

"I am. The summoning of a Heroic Spirit, even an approximation created by the Grail, is, after all, not something one sees every day."

"Fair enough." Bazett took a deep breath, feeling the magic in the air. As she concentrated, she could feel it thrum in time with her heartbeat – and Kirei's as well. "Well. Let's get started." She put her teacup to one side, then went and stood before the circle. She shifted her feet slightly, in order to ground herself. Her back was straight, head up, one arm outstretched to work her will on the summoning array in front of her. It was a forthright and self-assured stance, ideal for quickly shifting to close combat, and more to the point it was the pose she'd been using most of her magic in for years now. "For the elements, silver and iron…"

She chanted the words of the familiar spell, feeling the magic take hold. The room was lit by more than the electric lights, now, as the circle started glowing. As Bazett continued with the ritual, the spectrum started shifting, shifting ever so slightly from blue to cyan to green.

As the ritual continued, Bazett felt more and more of her od drain out of her magic circuits. The Grail handled most of the actual summoning of the Servants, so all you really needed to do was signal the Grail to tell it that it should do just that. Still, it wasn't exactly an _easy _task, connecting yourself to a spiritual object and bending it to your will, even when said object was designed specifically for that purpose.

(Bazett had heard rumours that the Grail was less prana-intensive to use for members of the Three Families. They were probably just a case of sour grapes, but as she chanted and her od levels ebbed lower and lower she could almost believe it.)

Here went nothing.

"…come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!" she finished. The room was cast in bright yellow light, and then all was still.

A figure stood in the circle, where none had been before.

It… _probably_ wasn't Cu Chulainn, Hound of Ulster, born Setanta, in pre-Christian Ireland.

For one thing, it was a teenage girl.

For another thing, she was apparently Japanese, albeit dressed in a vaguely Germanic-looking costume – yellow skirt and boots (to match her inexplicably-blonde hair and golden eyes); brown corset, beret and fingerless gloves; white blouse and sleeves. Oddly, the blouse was short-sleeved, and there was a small gap exposing bare skin before another set of longer detached sleeves went down to the gloves.

Still. Bazett had to ask, just in case the legends left out a few things. It could happen! ...although going so far as to misgender their subject seemed somewhat unlikely. "You're… not Cu Chulainn, right?"

The girl tilted her head. "No?" she said, making it a question. She smiled serenely and curtsied. "Tomoe Mami, Servant Archer, at your service. I assume you're my Master?"

Bazett tried to keep the disappointment off her face. She really did. It wasn't Archer's fault that she wasn't Cu Chulainn, and Bazett was sure she'd be a fine ally in the War.

It was just that Bazett's entire reason for being here had been taken away in a single moment – a moment that should have been one of triumph and elation.

Bazett was so crushed and disappointed, in fact, that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.

There was a sharp pain all through Bazett's shoulder and upper arm.

One arm, still in a suit sleeve, fell away from her torso. But it didn't fall to the floor.

"**By the power of the Command Seal**," Kirei thundered, brandishing the arm – her arm – which he'd caught just as soon as he'd severed it from her body, "**Accept me as your Master, Archer!**"

_What?_

Bazett was entirely lost, everything had been going according to plan until a few seconds ago and then-

_Kirei just- why did he- we were friends and-_

Fortunately for Bazett her combat reflexes weren't nearly as confused as the rest of her, and she twisted out of the way of a strike meant to take her head too-

-Black Keys, spiritual weapons, bypass most protective spells, suit will be ineffective, _why is he doing this_-

-and responded with a powerful strike from her remaining arm, runes on the gloves blazing with cyan light. Kirei crossed his arms in front of him, taking the blow on a hastily-erected guard with his swords, but he was still rocked back a step. Bazett used the time to gain distance, surging towards the door-

-locked, part of Kirei's trap, he meant for this to happen all along, _he never did this when we met before why suddenly turn on me now_-

-then lurched aside as Kirei threw the Black Keys at her back. The pain was starting to set in now, excruciating. Her shoulder felt horribly _wrong_, her balance was all off, and inside Bazett some internal clock started counting down.

_Brachial artery open, hypovolemic shock setting in, approximately four minutes until unconsciousness through blood loss_.

There was a spell to prevent that, and Bazett tried to remember the relevant runes in the sequence, but she had other things to worry about. Kirei didn't let up at all, launching a flurry of blows her way – and from the speed he was moving it looked like he was reinforcing himself. Two could play at that game.

From what Bazett could remember, Kirei's style of martial arts was some Chinese thing – Bajiquan or some such? – that he'd worked to improve on with magecraft. Reinforcement, shifting of internal energy, weird stepping motions that concealed movement – Kirei was ridiculously dangerous in close combat.

Bazett was much more so.

Tiny runes, previously hidden, flared to life along the seams of Bazett's suit, and especially on her remaining glove and boots. When Kirei's next strike came – some ridiculously powerful punch produced by stamping on the ground and redirecting the force – Bazett was ready. Her forearm swept across and bulled aside the force of the thrust, and Bazett's other hand drove straight into Kirei's head with enough force to fell an old oak-

-no, it didn't do that, because it was still twitching on the floor where Kirei had dropped it-

-and Bazett almost bounced her arm off Kirei's and drove it sideways in a hammer fist, except Kirei was shoving forwards inside her space so only her forearm connected, and here came his knee-

-so Bazett steeled her reinforced abdomen, and trusted in her rune-marked suit, and even with all of that Kirei's blow _still_ hit like a sledgehammer, but it was nothing she hadn't taken before, so she whirled in a half-circle and brought her arm _in_ and _up_ and Kirei damn near had his head taken off by the uppercut if he hadn't moved his head at the last moment-

If Bazett had been at full strength, with two arms, she would have won by now. Kirei was incredibly good and incredibly experienced, and it looked like he'd been holding back when she'd seen him work before because this was beyond anything she'd seen him do as an Executor, but the truth of the matter was he was getting slightly old and Bazett was in her prime, not to mention one of the most talented Enforcers to come out of the Magus Association in decades. Strength, speed, durability, maybe even fighting skill, she had him beat.

But she'd let her guard down around Kirei because she'd thought he was her friend, and that made all the difference.

All she could do now was hope to take Kirei down in time to staunch her bleeding magically, then hope to make it to a hospital or something before losing consciousness.

So Bazett pressed the advantage, launching as much a fusillade of blows as possible when she was down one arm and bleeding out, knees and elbows and headbutts and _not_ kicks because she really needed to stay in close where Kirei couldn't use his Black Keys and his greater reach, and because if she was going to beat Kirei at all it was going to be now while she still had enough blood in her body to move effectively, because she had-

-_a little over three and a half minutes-_

-before she was dead from blood loss if nothing else, and before that her muscles would shut down to protect oxygen flow to the brain, even if that really wasn't helpful right now, _dammit what was that spell_-

_CRACK_.

Both fighters paused at the earsplitting sound of, of all things, a gunshot. In the confined space it was almost impossibly loud, and a lot more resonant than Bazett was used to hearing from firearms. Neither she nor Kirei took their eyes off each other, but Kirei used the momentary distraction to gain distance, pulling a fresh set of Black Keys from his robe as he did so-

Yellow ribbons emerged from nowhere and ensnared both Bazett and Kirei, rendering her unable to move. She tensed against them. They were a lot stronger than they looked, but with effort she should be able to-

"Stop this instant! _What _is going on here?" Archer yelled. The ribbons redoubled, stopping Bazett's wriggling.

Well, that was that. Whether she meant to or not, Kirei's Servant had killed Bazett after all. She wasn't going to get another chance to get in close to Kirei, and the longer they waited the worse her chances got and Kirei knew that.

Archer apparently didn't. She lowered the – pistol? – she'd fired into the ceiling.

"Now, I would like you to explain, please, just which of you is my Master, and which is not, and why you are fighting, and when you are done _I _will decide if there is any killing to be done! I would _especially_ like to hear why _you," _Archer glared at Kirei, "think it is a priestly thing to do to go around cutting off people's arms!"

Kirei was unmoved. Under his right sleeve, Bazett could see a faint glow. "**By the power of the Command Seal, I order you to release me, Archer.**" The ribbons faded slowly. Archer looked incensed – looked as though she was fighting it, actually, but even an Archer's Independent Action and Magic Resistance were no match for a Command Seal. Within the space of a second Kirei would be free – free to kill her.

So Bazett made a _split_-second decision.

She reinforced herself far beyond anything she'd ever dared to do before, and pumped as much prana into her suit as she thought it could possibly take without breaking, and then she _moved_.

The ribbons _still_ gave her trouble to break – how strong were these things? With this much force she could have broken free of inch-thick steel manacles! – but in a moment she was free, ducking under yet more ribbons that she saw Archer firing from under her sleeves, and lunging for-

-her arm, which she scooped up in a diving roll-

-and then she _sprinted_ for the locked door, launching a kick as she neared it that damn near cracked it in two, and her leg as well-

-and then Bazett Fraga Mcremitz, finest Enforcer of the Magus Association, ran, or limped at speed, for her life out of the Kotomine church, ran until her reinforcement wore off, not because she failed to concentrate but because she was completely out of prana, ran until her vision turned blurry and her breathing turned sluggish and she puked up everything she'd eaten that day.

Ran until she collapsed in the middle of the street, clutching her severed arm.

Bazett rarely cried. She'd seen and done too much to be wasting energy on her own feelings. But there, in the night, in a foreign country, her dreams shattered around her ears, her friend having betrayed her, Bazett curled into a ball and wept.

* * *

It had been an experience, bringing a Servant to school. Not just because of the obvious incongruity of having a grizzled warrior looming over Rin's desk and stalking down corridors beside her, although that certainly was part of it. Not even because of the fact that she could see him and the rest of the class could not. It was a bit of a struggle, even for Rin, to not visibly react to Caster's presence – it was easy for those without any kind of spiritual senses, but as soon as one could see or hear Caster he simply became the focus of attention without seemingly trying. He was almost fundamentally obvious. (When he wasn't sneaking up on defenceless victims, that was, but Rin wasn't thinking about that, nope.) No, Rin had expected all these things and somewhat mentally prepared for them. But she hadn't anticipated the genuine interest Caster showed in the idea of universal education.

Caster listened to the teacher's introductory comments at the start of each lesson with rapt attention, and seemed if anything even more fascinated by how the class reacted to it. Over the lunch break, he borrowed one of Rin's science textbooks and read through the whole thing in a quarter of an hour, chuckling to himself and shaking his head in astonishment.

Caster himself had, apparently, been to an actual school for magic, but even there it was heavily based off the Master-apprentice system, and one was expected to self-study to actually progress in the art. The 'college' was just a collection of mages with an interest in passing on their teachings, who had pooled resources towards things like a library and quarters for resident students. It seemed extremely peculiar to Rin, but not nearly as peculiar as a school for magic existing in the first place. It was something that fundamentally didn't work beyond teaching the absolute basics, due to the principle of diminishing mysteries, but nevertheless Caster had attended one. The idea was absurd, but Rin supposed his diploma or whatever had to be worth more than the paper (or parchment, or vellum, or papyrus, or whatever they'd used) it was printed on, because when she'd woken up that morning Caster had announced that he'd found a possible solution to the 'artifacts powered by horrible murder' problem.

First, he'd asked her a series of questions about the familiar system, and the mechanics behind the magecraft of it. Rin, at that point still waking up, not to mention feeling awful from the night before, had managed to explain – it was mostly a matter of transferring a portion of the magus' body with a concentration of magic circuits to an animal, thereby imbuing it with a measure of the mage's own will and soul. You didn't transfer the whole magic circuit – if that was the case, no magus would waste their precious circuits on something as expendable as a familiar – but by sacrificing a part of it (which would grow back with time), the familiar could be induced to gain magic circuits of its own, and even use magecraft itself, although all the prana had to be provided by the magus.

Next Caster had checked with Rin if she made a distinction between animals and people when it came to slaughtering them to gain an advantage in the War. Upon confirming that, yes, she was perfectly happy to kill non-sentients as long as it gave a tangible benefit and wasn't done _too_ inhumanely, practicality permitting, he'd presented his proposed solution to Rin, and let her mull it over while the both of them were at school.

Most of the time, Caster would have to hunt some mighty monstrous beast or something otherwise sentient to obtain souls of the same quality as a human's. By adding a portion of _Rin's_ magic circuits, which was to say her soul, to a creature – ideally an already-intelligent one, such as a whale or a dolphin – Caster hoped to improve the quality of the acquired soul when he killed it, to the point where he could make up the difference himself by being very, very good at enchantment.

Rin wasn't quite sure what to think about her Servant's enthusiasm to get cracking with, essentially, killing her soul piece by piece.

Still, she'd consented to a proof-of-concept experiment, which was why she and Caster were both in her basement to actually put it into practice. (Rin had had a nap as soon as she'd returned from school – this War was going to play merry hell with her sleep schedule, she just knew it.) Caster had captured a mouse, which was currently shaking, terrified, in Caster's hand, as though confronted by some huge predator. Which was a pretty good description of Caster, actually, but Rin had no idea how the mouse knew that.

"This had better work," Rin grumbled. A thought struck her. "Oh, and do bear in mind if you accidentally capture my soul through its connection with the mouse, you'll fade and die without a prana source."

"Relax, Master. I'm no expert in your magecraft, but I would definitely need to cast Soul Trap on your main body in order to capture your soul. Although interestingly, from what I understand, that should rip the subordinate remnant of your soul out of the mouse, as well, removing its state as a familiar and possibly even taking its magic circuits with it… I'd actually really like to test that, but, as you said, prana source."

Rin stared at her Servant.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Master? Go on, open a vein, I'll heal you afterward."

Shaking her head, Rin obligingly cut herself and bled into the mouse's mouth, Caster forcing the jaws apart with a couple of massive fingers. (This stage of the process could be done with hair, and usually was, but Caster had explained that he could heal minor cuts easily, but couldn't regrow someone's hair.) As she had been taught, Rin flared od in her magic circuits as she did so, to quicken the development within the familiar of its own, and chanted the aria that would make up the rest and make it more than just her bleeding onto some poor rodent. Within moments, Rin was the proud owner of a new mouse familiar. Curious as to what it was like to be that small, she had the mouse share its senses with her – only to feel her neck snap immediately.

While Rin reeled, Caster held up the gem he'd borrowed from her, that he'd done… _something_… to in order to turn it into what he called a Soul Gem. (The mouse, meanwhile, was casually incinerated in Caster's other hand, falling as ashes on the floor.)

The black star he'd used before wasn't in evidence - Caster hadn't gotten around to using Nakamura's soul, he said. Rin had half a mind to tell him to discard it, but… well, Nakamura wasn't using it any more. Still, it felt wrong to use a person's soul as a tool like that, even so. She hadn't asked what happened to a soul when Caster did whatever he did to make it power an enchantment. None of the answers she'd come up with were super-comfortable, and Rin had a feeling she didn't want to know. On the other hand, she'd hopefully be using this magic herself one day…

Anyway. Caster examined the gem as closely as any craftsman, then turned to Rin with a wide smile.

"Common!" he exclaimed. "Not fantastic by any means, but far above what such a creature should have provided! I think we've cracked it, Master. I'm sure we could refine the process further, but we can definitely call this a success. We can work on this some more later, but for now I think it would be prudent to begin capturing some more materials. Rodents won't do – but I have an idea for what might work better."

"Oh? By all means, tell me. Also, could you…?" Rin waved her bleeding finger at Caster.

"Ah, of course." Caster reached out and touched Rin on the shoulder, and a blue-white glow surrounded her. The cut on her finger was healed as though it were never there. "I'll do better than tell you my plan, Master, I'll show you! To the roof!" With that, he dematerialized, presumably heading straight up through the ceiling.

Rin sighed. Once again, she was being dragged behind in her Servant's wake. Still, how much trouble could he possibly get into just standing on the roof of her house?

…although she wished he'd bothered to take her with him, or at least given her a lift. Crawling through an attic window was hardly the dignified behavior expected of a Tohsaka.

She emerged onto the roof of her house to find Caster rematerialized, and staring intently at the small forest that the Tohsaka estate backed onto.

"What's the plan, then?" she asked, looking in vaguely the same direction, although she wasn't sure what she was supposed to be searching for.

Caster nodded to himself as if having confirmed something, then explained, "I mentioned that souls are generally higher quality based on size and intelligence. There's nothing really that large around here, but there _is_ a certain creature that can use tools, has a memory measured in years, and which can collaborate with each other to the degree of having regional dialects." He broke off and looked at Rin. "That is, if they're largely the same here as on my world."

Rin raised an eyebrow. "So, if they're so smart, why haven't I heard of them? Seems to me people would be up in arms about something like that existing so close to humanity." It was one of the reasons she'd heard bandied around as to why the Fae no longer interacted with humanity – humans were just inherently wary of and hostile towards something they thought might be as smart as them. Did Caster know of some non-human intelligent creature that existed, hidden, on his world? And why did he think they also existed on hers?

Caster chuckled. "Oh, but you _have_ heard of them, Master. Well, enough talk – it's time for shouting."

He took a couple of deep breaths, then-

**/RAAN/ /MIR/ /TAH/**

It was more than sound, more than mere vocalization. What came out of Caster's mouth could only be described as pure magic given the form of a word. It wasn't _loud_ especially, no more than a very, very, powerful voice could manage, but nevertheless it blasted forth from Rin's roof as though Caster had yelled it through a megaphone. And it echoed. There was nothing for it to echo off apart from the far-too-distant buildings of New Town, but Rin had the disturbing impression it was echoing off reality itself, somehow.

And over a hundred crows launched themselves from their perches in the forest and made their way towards Caster.

It was really, really hard, but Rin did manage to avoid shrieking as the air around her filled with black flapping shapes. Just about. The crows settled anywhere they could – on the roof, on Caster's shoulders and outstretched arms, on the phone lines. A couple settled on Rin. She just hoped they'd relieved themselves while they were still in the forest.

"How about it, Master?" Caster grinned, covered with bird on every available surface. "With so much raw material, we should be up and running in no time!"

"Impressive!" Rin yelled over the noise of flapping and cawing. "Can we start thinning their numbers _really quickly_, please?"

"Afraid not, Master! I have only a limited number of Soul Gems right now!" Caster called. "I suppose you could set up a Bounded Field or something!"

How Rin managed to concentrate enough to set up a barrier when the crow on her shoulder seemed intent on confiscating her hair ties she would never know, but she did manage, and within a couple of minutes every crow on the roof fell into a deep sleep. It was a pretty standard 'hundred years of slumber'-type field, and the crows would stay under as long as it was up.

"Good work, Master," Caster said, approvingly, once they were back inside the house and innocent neighbours wouldn't be asking themselves what that weird girl was doing up on top of her house with a bunch of birds. "We'll set up something more permanent later – an aviary, perhaps."

"Yeah, can we get that done as soon as possible, please?" Rin asked, brushing herself off (none of the birds had shed feathers on her like she'd expected from movies, but she still didn't exactly feel clean). "Dead corvid is not the aesthetic my house is going for."

Caster shrugged. "I could build one now, if you'd like. It's not that hard, if you know what you're doing."

"And you do?" Rin remembered who she was talking to. "Of course you do. Well, I'm tempted. But I think I'll have you do that while I sleep, if you don't mind. Time's a wasting, and we've still never had a patrol that I'd consider a success."

"You want to go out again? I wouldn't object. I've got a pretty good mental map of the city already, but I haven't seen everything. What about the area on the other side of New Town?"

Rin grimaced. "The area by the church? I suppose, but… urgh. There's someone there I'd rather not meet. I'd been putting off seeing him for as long as possible, to be honest."

Caster looked intrigued. "An enemy?"

"I wish. Then I could have you eliminate him. No, this is my guardian, and moderator for the War, Kotomine Kirei. He's… infuriating. In an persistent and wholly unnecessary way. _Way_ more than you are, when you're not, you know, killing people."

"That was only the once," Caster said. He sounded a little affronted.

"Once is all you need! No killing people while we're out… unless they're rival Masters or Servants, obviously."

"Obviously. Shall we get changed and get going, then, Master? I'll need to see that part of town at some point, after all." Caster's voice was… eager? Excited? Maybe he was feeling peculiar, being cooped up in this house when he was used to travelling. Well, good. One more thing she could incentivize her Servant with, no matter how small, was all to the good now that she'd wast- _used_ one of her Command Seals.

"Let's. Give me a minute and I'll be down. Prepare yourself however you wish, Caster."

* * *

So, once again, Rin was out for a patrol with her Servant. The act of, technically, going adventuring with a hero from ages past had swiftly grown stale, but Rin supposed that was just how it was. Maybe when Caster was familiar enough with the city they'd stop bothering, but for now they may as well use the time before the War started. Really, once all the Servants had been summoned, the best thing for her to do was just camp in her house from dusk until dawn, trusting in her house's defenses as well as whatever Caster could cook up to protect her from harm – and while they were there, Caster could be building their arsenal.

She only became aware she was musing out loud when Caster replied to her.

"A sound strategy, Master. Although I wouldn't wait too long before stocking up on as many items and potions as possible. I'll get started tonight, if you don't mind, once I'm done with the aviary. I agree that I'm not going to just stop creating useful tricks while the War is under way, and I agree that holing up in our fortress is a sensible idea. But to hold off on our greatest advantage because we could put it off until later is, I think, misguided, even if there is a time-limited task we could otherwise be doing."

"Huh?" Rin said, breaking off her chain of thought.

"I'll still be creating items as fast as I can no matter what else we're doing."

"Oh. Good." The pair walked in silence for a while.

Unlike the previous night, there were actually a few people out and about. Possibly because it was a Friday night, possibly just because of chance, the streets leading towards New Town were pretty lively. Then again, Rin was heading out slightly earlier than before; it was about half past nine, going by her watch.

The evening air was chilly – though the day had been warm and sunny, there was no cloud cover to hold in the heat of the day, and the temperature had quickly dropped after the sun went down. Rin shivered in her coat, and rubbed her hands together, but Caster seemed perfectly at home.

Something occurred to Rin. "Caster."

"Hmm?"

"I was a bit too distracted to ask earlier, but… what _was_ that back there? With the birds, and the… shouting?"

Caster beamed. "I was waiting for you to ask about that. It's an aspect of magic that I'm especially proud of, and one that's extremely rare even in my world. To my knowledge I was, and am, the greatest human practitioner of that particular art in existence. It is called the Thu'um, the Voice or Shout."

It was certainly appropriate, recalled Rin. She could remember the feeling, as though Caster's voice had extended beyond sound and became magic, itself.

"How does it work? Is it connected to your version of magecraft?"

Caster shook his head. "Not at all. Someone completely incapable of working spells would still be able to use the Thu'um, as long as they learned how. It doesn't connect to my pool of magicka at all; the only limitation it has is a cooldown period between each Shout, and that no longer than ten minutes between each of the stronger ones. As to how it _does_ work – that, I never learned the mechanics of exactly, but my people believe that the Divine Kyne breathed life into the world, and as such breath and voice is our purest essence. The idea isn't uncommon – the surest way to tell a thing is dead is if it stops breathing, after all. I believe your term for magicka, _prana_, comes from the Sanskrit word for breath?"

Rin nodded. "Go on."

"All of my people, the Nords, possess some aptitude to use the Thu'um, but the problem is that to use it requires a deep understanding of the language of dragons – not just what the words mean, but what they mean _to a dragon_. It requires a lifetime of study, and long practice with forcing your mindset into that of an alien species… unless you happen to be one of those few born with the soul of a dragon." Caster spread his arms expansively, and smiled at Rin.

"The dragonborn, as we are called, have the ability to absorb a dragon's soul after it is killed – thereby destroying it permanently, I might add, a feat otherwise impossible. By doing so, we have a shortcut towards the understanding of dragon language, though we must still learn the actual words. Fortunately, there are still places in the deeps and wilds of my world where the tongue of the dragons is recorded from ages past. Throughout my life I quested far and wide to find these words, and I can say that my vocabulary is about as extensive as any human's has ever been."

Rin put a knuckle to her lips in thought. "You… shout… at reality, and it responds. And you say it doesn't connect to the pool of energy usually used for magic. It almost sounds like the Divine Language theory…" She stopped walking for a second to close her eyes, focusing on the thread of prana that connected her soul to that of her Servant. She startled. "And indeed that's what the Grail's filed it under. High Speed Divine Words – fake, apparently, figures… A-plus rank? Yeesh… what kinds of things are possible with that level of mastery?" She looked at Caster, who shrugged.

"It's a versatile skill. To recite everything the Thu'um is capable of would take me all night. I will say that just as one can create entirely new sentences in human tongues, it is possible to create new Shouts using dragon language – even entirely new words. For example, dragons had no concept of the word 'mortal' before humans introduced it to the language – for the express purpose of killing the unkillable." Caster chuckled. "_That_ was a satisfying shout to use, I can tell you."

Huh. Rin had been thinking that her Servant was pretty ridiculous as far as magic went already, but this was on a whole other level. Even the spells he'd demonstrated to her before were the kind of thing most magi would give their eyeteeth to learn, and apparently that was before her Servant even started getting serious. The idea of not having to waste precious prana to work magic on the level her Servant had hinted at… "Could I learn this art?"

"I certainly intend to teach you all that I can. I wasn't joking, earlier, when I said that you might be able to perform your first word by the end of the War. Your potential for magic is incredible, and your devotion to study and learning obvious. With my help and teaching, and possibly a little bit of cheating, I believe you can do it, Master."

Rin felt warm and fuzzy for just an instant… before she remembered just what kind of monster was complimenting her on her attitude. It was _really hard_ to stay angry at Caster; he just projected some kind of aura of likability, even when you knew that not a day earlier he'd murdered someone in front of you.

"There's no hidden awful cost to learning or using this power, is there? Like, every shout requires a human sacrifice, or something?" Rin glared at Caster.

Caster held up his armoured hand, placating her. "Nothing like that. Well, I had to best a dragon in battle so that I could absorb its soul and memories every time I wanted to understand a new Word; I don't know if you'd consider that a cost or not. You'll not have to do anything like that, though – I intend to transfer my memories to you directly, and hopefully sidestep some of the years-long learning process. Don't mistake me, though, this will be harder than any magic you've ever learned before."

Rin sighed. "Nothing worth doing is ever easy. Oh well. Do compile a human-dragon dictionary or something at some point though, so I can continue studying after you're gone."

"Of course, Master."

The pair walked along the streets of Fuyuki. There were a lot fewer people around now, probably because they were in a more residential area – the space around the church was, perhaps fittingly, rather lacking in bars and late-night dining establishments, although Rin thought there was a Chinese restaurant around here somewhere. The lack of people was just fine by her, though – it wasn't as if she was one for feeling nervous by herself at night even without a Servant at her side.

"Master, there is someone up ahead," Caster broke in suddenly.

"So what? Just disappear again. Oh, and let's not have anyone die tonight, got it?"

Caster chuckled, grimly. "Mutually exclusive, I'm afraid, Master. They're mortally wounded. Should we take her to a hospice or clinic somewhere? I can do so with ease, but if you'd rather I disappear…"

"What? Caster, where are you looking?"

Caster pointed up the street, at an indistinct dark huddle on the pavement. Evidently his night vision was better than Rin's. Cursing under her breath, Rin ran over.

It was… well, it was someone mortally wounded, just as Caster had said. A businesswoman, by the look of her – correction, a _foreign_ businesswoman, judging from the features and red hair. It wasn't particularly unusual to see foreigners in Fuyuki since New Town had sprung up as a financial and business hub; likely this was someone in town for a conference or something.

So much for that. The woman was clutching an arm – her own severed one, it looked like, judging by the matching sleeve. The skin tone would have matched too, probably, except that the woman's face was clearly much paler than it should have been, with dark shadows under the eyes, and the hand on the severed arm had turned almost purple from the blood pooling in the extremities.

Rin took a breath. "Caster. What's her prognosis?"

Caster knelt down next to the unconscious woman and gave her a brief examination, prodding and poking and even looking under her shirt briefly. Rin wanted to protest, but, well. Caster was probably the closest thing around to a doctor, after all. Eventually he straightened up, and looked at Rin. His expression was… intrigued? Engaged? Unreadable. "She'll be dead within minutes, as it stands. The most obvious thing is the severed arm, of course. That's not been long, if she's still alive. She's also got a few broken ribs, and some other blunt trauma wounds. Most likely, she was in a fight."

"You don't say," Rin said, gesturing towards the arm.

"Hm, well, it could have been an industrial accident or some such, but you're right, that much is no stretch. What's more interesting is that her right ankle is twisted, the knee is dislocated, and there's a fracture in her right shinbone – she hit _something_ very hard indeed."

"The other fighter?"

"Or fighters. No, I don't think so." Caster gestured at the smart business shoes, and grinned. "No viscera on the sole or tip, just a little blood spatter from her arm. Believe me, _I'd_ have felt a kick with the kind of force it took to break this lady's own leg. Anyone human would be a bloody smear."

Rin considered. "Anyone human…" she mused. A thought came to her, and she expanded what she thought of as her mystical senses. Every mage had the capacity to sense magical energy to some degree – it was a useful talent. Rin wasn't the best at it, but she could tell when prana was or wasn't present.

There was none at all in the woman on the ground, not one drop.

This was actually pretty unusual. Everyone – everyone human, at least, which this woman certainly was, there was no way Caster would miss something so obvious even if Rin herself might – had a certain base level of magical energy just from being alive and possessing a soul. To have none…

"Caster. Can you sense any Servants nearby?"

Caster looked up at Rin, surprised, before shaking his head. "Ah, you're right, the draining of magicka. No, I can't sense anyone. Hold on." He cast two spells in quick succession, cocking his head as though listening for something, then shook his head again. "No-one living and no-one dead nearby apart from us and her, which rules out both Servants and Masters."

"I don't suppose you can check to see if there was a Servant nearby in the past?"

"Remembrancy is not one of my skills, Master, I'm afraid. However, I think you are correct; a Servant has decided to use the tactic of draining humans for their energy. Besides me, that is."

The woman on the ground coughed. Rin tensed, ready to have Caster disappear if necessary, but she didn't wake. Good. Rin would have hated to have to explain Caster's presence. Although it wasn't likely this woman would be telling anyone anything any time soon, which was something of a blessing as far as keeping the secret was concerned, since she wouldn't survive to spread stories of some strange human-shaped spirit going round attacking people.

Wait. What was she thinking? It was _convenient_ that the woman in front of her would die, just so Rin didn't have to do any hard explaining? What was _wrong_ with her? Out of nowhere, the conversation from the previous night rose up in Rin's mind.

"_We are _not_ the same."_

"_Yes, we are. Master_."

Well, sod that.

"Caster."

"Hm?"

"You're a healer – my finger feels good as new now. Can you heal _her_?"

Caster looked thoughtful, then nodded. "I've never healed a severed limb before, but since we have it with us that shouldn't be a problem… yes, I should say I'd be able to get her up good as new."

"Good. Do so."

"And you were planning on explaining this how? As I recall, you still need to keep the War a secret from people such as her."

"Yes, well. Fortunately, the mystery Servant has done us a favour in that regard. Her mind will be even easier to manipulate than usual, since there is no foreign magical energy, let alone raw od, to resist to process. We'll heal her, tell her to make her way home, then wipe the last, oh, half hour or so of her memory. She's alive, magic is kept secret, everyone's happy." Rin braced herself for another argument with her Servant about the value of human life.

Caster shrugged. "Works for me."

Rin, who was preparing to have to rattle of a list of bullet points she'd been frantically preparing as to why the woman should live, blinked. "Um. That easily?"

"Of course. I told you before, I'm not a monster. Now that I can't harvest this woman's soul for resources, or her body for ingredients," the gigantic Servant glowered at Rin, briefly, "I have no reason to kill her, and no reason _not_ to let her live. I wasn't going to suggest such a _radical_ course of action, since I felt, and feel, as though miraculously reattaching some random human's arm goes against your policy of secrecy… but if you're happy to take care of the loose ends then I'm happy to help out with the heavy lifting, so to speak.

"Besides, you never know how these things will work out. It's entirely possible saving a woman in peril will bear fruit later. Such is the nature of quests." He stroked his beard. "Yes, that is the way it often goes. Now that I think of it, if you are to be a hero I should compile a short primer on the nature of quests and adventures. It will be sure to come in useful!" So saying, Caster clapped his enormous hands, and a white-blue glow surrounded them. "First, though…"

He lined up the severed arm with the woman's shoulder, then laid his hands on her. She was immediately surrounded by the same glow, and she gasped, before starting to breathe normally. Sparkles of the same colour spiraled upwards from the ground, describing a circle of light around where the woman lay. It looked… well, _visually_ it looked very impressive, but Rin couldn't help feeling there ought to be more ceremony to healing someone of a mortal wound. Caster had just gone and done it.

After no more than a minute Caster removed his hand. "Done." The woman stirred, as if just about to wake. And why not? Apart from the blood on her clothes, she was just fine – as though she'd simply decided to lie down in the middle of the road for a nap. "I'd suggest removing her memory now, Master."

"Right. Right." Rin began gathering the prana for the hypnosis. She paused. "Bear in mind, I try not to let things get this far, so I'm not exactly well-practiced in this particular spell." Usually, of course, Rin wouldn't ever admit this kind of weakness, to anyone. However, she'd begun to realise that, just maybe, it was worth being more precise, open, and honest about things like one's abilities or role in a partnership. Especially when there were lives – that is to say, lives she was responsible for – on the line. More to the point, if she couldn't trust her Servant with this kind of thing then she may as well give up on the War right now.

Caster shrugged. "Then I'll help out." Almost casually, he flicked his hand, and a ball of reddish magical energy struck the woman's forehead. Immediately, she stiffened, her breathing became ragged, and Rin could almost hear her heart start racing.

"What was that?" she demanded.

"Emotion induction – in this case, a blast of pure terror. It should lower this woman's mental defences, making it easier on you. Don't worry about trying to put much power into the spell, just focus on performing it right."

Huh. That was… incredibly creepy, actually. It was a good thing that it seemed to work by some sort of projectile, and wasn't just something Caster could pull off on anyone within a certain range. On the other hand, she'd not seen Caster miss with one of his spells yet. If he was as absurdly competent in that area as he was, well, everywhere else, Rin suspected he could singe the wings off a fly with a fireball at fifty paces. Rin wondered when exactly she'd stop being surprised by what her Servant could do.

But it _was_ helpful. A mind was hardest to break into when it was disciplined and impassive, and strong emotion made that harder to achieve. She readied the spell, then touched the red-haired woman's forehead.

"You will return by the fastest means available to you to where you are staying, at once and directly, deviating from your course only to ask for directions if you become lost. You will forget about my and my Servant's presence as soon as I am out of your sight. As soon as you have returned to your space and it is safe for you to do so, you will fall asleep for-" Rin checked her watch, "Eight and a half hours, or until woken by someone else, whichever is sooner. You will forget about the half-hour immediately prior to when your energy was drained, and your journey home, as soon as you do fall asleep." Rin cast about for any more loopholes to close. Maybe the woman was staying with someone? So she'd better make sure they didn't notice anything peculiar… Yeesh. This had turned out to be more tricky than Rin was expecting. Still, it'd be awful if someone had to die because Rin wasn't careful enough with her wording. Again.

"You will remain silent about any events which seem unnatural to you until you forget about them. You will not make notes to yourself or otherwise attempt to recover your lost memories. Oh, and you will forget my casting this spell on you." She looked at Caster.

"Seems fairly airtight to me, Master."

"Right." Rin released the spell, then watched as the woman – RIn would have liked to be able to call her something other than 'the woman' all the time, but she didn't seem to have any identification on her – got to her feet as in a daze, rubbed her right arm absentmindedly, then set off towards the end of the street, paying no attention to Rin or Caster. Within a minute she had turned a corner and was out of sight.

"Well, that's that. I hope she stays out of trouble on her way home." Something occurred to Rin. "Oh, crap, I should have added that she's allowed to deviate from her course to run from danger as well." Shit. It was always the way, wasn't it, she remembered the most important things only after it was too late to do anything about them! "Do you think we should escort her home, Caster?"

Caster shook his head. "I'm not so concerned with where she's going than with where she's _been_." He pointed at the pool of blood where the woman had been lying, and the trail of crimson that led in the opposite direction to where she had gone. "There's a Servant on the loose, and I for one am more than ready for battle." He bared his teeth. Rin hadn't noticed how sharp they were.

Rin considered this. It was very tempting, the chance to start making her mark on the War for real – the chance to actually start fighting it, rather than merely preparing. But… "How about this: I'll tail our patient, and you follow the blood trail and see where it leads. If you encounter a Servant, or anything else interesting, tell me and I'll hurry over to provide support – otherwise, I'll see her home safe. Sound good?"

Caster stroked his beard in thought. Eventually he said, "Well, I'd prefer you to start accompanying me on adventures as soon as possible. But, you're right, it would be a shame to waste all that effort and lose our _patient_ to an opportunistic mugger. On the other hand, Master, have you considered that the attacking Servant might want to take another shot at taking out any witnesses? You could very well run into them and be without my support."

That… was a good point. Rin doubted an enemy Servant would listen to her if she explained that she'd already removed the woman as a witness, except to peg her as an enemy magus, likely an enemy Master, and definitely a potential threat. She definitely _did not_ want to encounter someone like Caster without her own pet psychopath to protect her. Rin wracked her brains, before realizing there was someone more qualified to comment on tactical considerations.

"Well, I'll leave it up to you –if you think that's more likely than us encountering the enemy Servant back along the blood trail, we'll both tail our patient and see her home… oh, the trail would probably go cold by then, wouldn't it?"

Caster nodded.

"Then it's a gamble as to which path might lead us to the Servant, and we can't take both, and we can't risk me being caught by myself… Well, I'll leave it in your hands. Where do you think the Servant would likely be – tracking its previous victim, or elsewhere?"

The blond Servant stroked his beard again. "I think…" he said slowly, "that none but the most paranoid of Servants would expect someone to survive having their arm severed when it is done in secret, far from help and in the middle of the night. I'm not _sure_ – but I think the blood trail will give me the best chance of encountering them. And so your trailing her home _should_ be fairly safe."

Rin nodded. Decisive, a Tohsaka should be decisive, she could ask for advice but make the decision herself. "Then we'll stick to my original plan. Go, Caster." Caster turned and dematerialised, and Rin set off down the street where the woman had gone, and before long caught a glimpse of her turning another corner. She was walking steadily, not lurching or limping but certainly as though very tired. Rin kept her distance, and kept the woman in sight – while straining her senses to catch any possible warning of an enemy Servant.

She was so tensed for any faint signal that she almost jumped when Caster's mental voice sounded in her mind.

"I've encountered the Servant, Master."

Rin's heart leapt. She tried to keep the trepidation out of her tone when she replied, "Very well. What's it like?"

Caster chuckled ruefully. "Actually, I can't tell. They're outside visual range, and they haven't moved, either to engage or escape. I can tell you, however, that they have detected me. The… intentionality, the direction of this presence is very clear, and very much pointed at me."

Rin thought. The obvious next command was 'well move into visual range then', but Caster clearly would have done that on his own if he thought it was a good idea. Then she got it.

"You think it's a trap?"

Caster's voice was wry. "I think that staying put and making another Servant come to me, using a clearly marked trail as a lure, is _exactly_ what I'd be doing if I had a favourable battlefield, of any description. Speaking as the Servant best suited to creating favourable battlefields, you understand." Caster's next words were more serious. "If you wanted, Master, I could engage anyway. It would not be the first time I have encountered traps, and it _does_ often work to simply attack head-on. If I used my spells, or especially Shouts, I could certainly shift the disposition of the battlefield to me – but, I confess, I have no idea what this other Servant has ready. This one is your call, Master."

So Caster trusted her enough that he'd given her the final decision on whether to go into battle, did he? That was surprisingly encouraging, given how untameable Caster had seemed at first. Maybe it was because she'd asked his opinion on whether or not to follow the trail. Give a little trust to get it, sort of thing. Well. Following that line of thought, she'd be a fool not to take his advice on the situation. Decisive…

"You're right, Caster, it looks way too suspicious. Abort for now. Can you pinpoint the location, save it for later, something like that?"

"If I'd been there myself, yes. My sense of direction is second to none, I'll tell you now. But not, alas, from a distance. I'll make a note of where I am now though, and what direction the Servant was in. We can return later."

"A shame. Well, anyway. We'll withdraw. Obviously, you have my permission to engage the enemy Servant should they come after you."

"Understood."

Rin watched the woman she was tailing stop at a bus station, look blearily at the sign, then settle down and wait. Well, that was that. It didn't look as though the Servant would come after her after all, and on a bus, with other people, she should be alright. With luck, she'd just wake up the next morning and write the night off as a product of heavy drinking, or overwork, or something. Hopefully that would be the last she was involved in the Holy Grail War.

Part of Rin wanted to see the woman all the way home, for the sake of completeness if nothing else. But she did need to get to sleep at some point, and she needed to debrief with Caster, and, well, it wasn't like the location of her apartment or hotel or whatever was that important.

(Rin would kick herself, later, for disregarding that part of herself.)

* * *

Mami had never really been comfortable in churches. She herself wasn't especially religious, but she did, more or less, identify as Shinto. Obviously, she had nothing against Christians, or anything, more power to them, but personally she'd never been interested in learning more, and so churches were labelled in her mind as 'Not For Mami'.

It didn't help that the only church she'd ever been to had been where the father of one of her few real friends had committed a murder/suicide. The sheer level of awkward she'd felt the only time she'd visited Kyouko at her own place, before her friend had kindly but firmly thrown her out, had sorta given her some bad associations.

Even so, Mami had the feeling that she'd have been uncomfortable at _this_ church even discounting her other reasons. Oh, it was nice enough, architecturally, all grand stone and beautiful stained glass. Very old-fashioned European, which Mami approved of – she didn't like it when traditions tried to go modern, and techy, and include all chrome and flash in their trappings. That way lay televangelism, she'd always thought. She had fond memories of watching those late night American channels with Kyouko and smiling while the redhead went on a tirade against some fire-and-brimstone preacher with his own talk show, who for all his willingness to adopt new media was pretty backwards in… other areas.

In hindsight, it was obvious why Kyouko had had such a bad reaction. At least that was one way Father Sakura hadn't messed up.

Anyway. The reason this church would never be on the list of Mami's favourite places was standing in front of her, smirking. The smirk had started while its owner was getting himself cleaned up from the fight that he'd started pretty much immediately after Mami was summoned; in which he'd shown genuine killing intent, to Mami's practiced eye. He hadn't stopped smirking since. It had only gotten wider as he saw Mami's reaction to what her new Master, not that she'd had the old one for more than ten seconds, was asking her to do.

"So, essentially, I'm to sit out the War." Mami was aware that this was a bit blunter and ruder than she'd usually act towards someone she was meeting for the first time. She felt it was justified, given that he was asking her to not actually try her best, to just leave bulk of the fighting to who-knew-who else. What was even the point of taking her off her previous Master if that was the case?

"On the contrary, I expect you to be very active, especially the first part of the War. I simply ask that you observe the Masters and Servants you encounter as much as possible, and withdraw without letting yourself be defeated. It would be a grievous shame to lose such a valuable resource so early in the War, after all." The priest – Kotomine Kirei, he'd introduced himself as – smiled beatifically.

A voice came from off to the side. "Hmph. 'Valuable resource' indeed." Mami spun on her heel, fast like only a Servant could be fast, already summoning a brace of muskets in mid-air around her, and let off five shots in the space of a second at the source of the – immense, impossible – presence she felt.

Mami didn't miss her marks much, these days.

Each musket ball was aimed squarely between the eyes of the golden-haired man who had emerged from the living area of the church. Each was perfectly on-target.

Every single one was deflected inches from the man's face by a barely-visible golden forcefield, swerving aside to strike the wall behind him. They left fist-sized holes in the stonework and sent chips of masonry flying everywhere, but the intruder didn't seem to notice. Smiling disdainfully, he calmly pulled a sword from – some kind of ripple in the air behind him? – and levelled it at Mami's neck where she stood transfixed. More ripples appeared, the points of other swords emerging.

Mami was pretty good at judging the level of danger a situation posed. Magical girls had to be, or else they didn't last long. You could never really tell just what a wraith was going to do, of course – each and every one of them had strange powers that made predicting them an exercise in futility even before you got into their inhuman mindset – but it helped to develop some kind of intuition that would tell you just how much trouble you were in.

_Invincible_.

That was what Mami's senses were screaming at her. Slowly, and not daring to take her eyes off the man's red ones, she dismissed her remaining muskets and took a shaking step back.

"There we are," the man – the _thing_ – said, as though she were a dog that had finally performed an interesting trick. "She can discern her betters, at least." Then he frowned. Mami quailed. "Not that that is particularly hard for one such as her. Just assume that _everyone_ counts, and scarcely ever be proven wrong. Why on _earth_ have you decided to acquire such a substandard Servant, Kirei? When I think that this is what has become of the Archer class…"

"Oh? I did not know you were such a one to be swayed by public opinion, Gilgamesh." Kirei chuckled. Mami blanched.

Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, ruler of Uruk, the two-thirds god, and the man who bound the Bull of Heaven. That explained her reaction, for sure. He was _just a bit_ more powerful than Tomoe Mami, magical girl.

Mami swallowed, then curtseyed. "N-nice to meet you, Gilgamesh, sir. I, I, I look forward to working together with you." Actually the thought terrified her, but Mami had often used extreme politeness as a crutch when she didn't know what to do in social situations, and it had become something of a habit when negotiating, especially in high-pressure situations.

It was admittedly an affectation, which was one more reason for that bitch Mikuni Oriko to look down on her.

Still, by this point she couldn't help it, it was just how she reacted when talking to someone she was nervous about. And she was very, very nervous about the King of Heroes. The sword was still at her neck.

The king's eyes narrowed, and Mami knew she'd made a mistake. "Oh? _You_ would presume to work alongside myself? You, a heroic spirit reduced to using gunpowder weapons, work with me, as though worthy to stand on the same field? Even to think yourself a subordinate of mine is the height of arrogance." Yeah, she could have worded that better. Mami closed her eyes, and waited.

"Come now, Gilgamesh, you know you would have been somewhat dissatisfied with anyone we used," Kirei broke in. Mami glanced at him in surprise, without moving anything but her eyes. "To answer your question, I would not presume to dictate which Servants are or are not summoned; that is quite outside the purview of a moderator. We can only work with what we have."

Gilgamesh snorted in amusement. The sword he was holding dissolved into golden sparkles, and the others disappeared back into the ripples in the air. He turned towards the priest, and Mami sagged in relief. No longer taking any notice of the current Servant Archer at all, he said, "As if what you are doing is otherwise the peak of acceptability. You really are the one thing worth watching in this era, Kirei. I thank you for your hospitality and amusement over the last ten years."

Ten years – then Gilgamesh was a leftover from the previous War? Mami had no idea how that was supposed to work, but she wasn't about to demand answers. Not with the most powerful Servant she could think of in the room with her. She simply bowed formally, avoiding the king's eyes, and waited for him to make his exit. On his way out, however, he paused.

"Archer."

"Y-yes, sir?"

"See to it that you do not sully the name of your class… or of your particular society of contractees."

Mami gasped, despite herself, and looked up. "You know about us?"

Gilgamesh smiled. It was still scornful, but tinged with something like nostalgia. "The women of Babylon were mine, and I their king. A poor ruler it is who does not know what his subjects are up to."

"Oh?" Kirei said, looking expectantly at Gilgamesh. "I must admit, this is new to me. If you would, could you enlighten me, King of Heroes? Is Archer not simply an embodied heroic spirit, like all Servants?"

"No, she is certainly that, if you were willing to call such a feeble soul a heroic spirit… but she had transcended humanity even before death, like all those of her kind."

"Huh? Uh, I mean, what do you mean, transcend humanity?" Mami had thought the King of Heroes was talking about her being a magical girl, but magical girls were still girls; the clue was in the name. So Mami had no idea what Gilgamesh meant.

The Servant paused, looking surprised, then glanced at Kirei and chuckled elegantly. "Well, no matter. If it indeed becomes important, all will be revealed in time." Kirei nodded, looking satisfied. Mami looked between the two men, completely lost.

"In the meantime," the king continued, "see that you do not embarrass the lineage of Ishtar. Kirei, I will talk to you later." So saying, he turned and made his exit at last, not looking back.

The room drained of tension in the King of Heroes' wake, and Mami sagged into a pew. She didn't feel tired – the advantages of having a spirit body, one simply didn't experience all the little aches and pains of being alive – but she was emotionally drained, and generally just wanted to blow into a paper bag somewhere. Unfortunately, she still needed to get her bearings on the War she'd been summoned into.

"Ki- Kotomine, what was that about?" Mami asked.

Kirei's smirk was back. "Like he said, it is ultimately of no concern. Also, there is no need to be so formal when addressing me. 'Master' will do fine."

Mami gritted her teeth. "Yes… Master."

"Excellent. I do apologise for the… turbulent beginning, but it was necessary. As the moderator, you see, I am forbidden to summon a Servant myself. Gilgamesh is technically contracted with me, but he will do as he wishes, of course. Which leaves me with one option if I am to have any real influence on the War."

"You're not _supposed_ to have any influence… oh, I see. You're planning to mess around with the War. I don't like it," Mami said flatly. "Not playing fair always left a sour taste in my mouth. ."

"Fortunately you do not have to like it. You merely need to follow orders," Kirei said. His voice was quite cheerful. "Why, anyone would think you didn't want the wish that the Grail provides at the end!"

Well, that was the thing, wasn't it? Mami knew all about the power of wishes – perhaps inevitably, she'd spent hours and hours thinking about what she would do if given the chance for another one. Now, she had been. And since she couldn't exactly be condemned to a lonely life of wraith-hunting _twice_, this meant that it was the impossible: one real, honest-to-goodness no-strings-attached wish. She would happily risk her life for a chance at that.

She would even kill for a chance at that.

Not to mention, Kirei _did_ have the Command Seals, as he'd so aptly demonstrated during the confusion just after Mami's summoning. It wasn't pleasant, to feel herself weakening the ribbons she'd set on him no matter how hard she told herself to hold on. It felt inexorable, unstoppable, like peer pressure and social conditioning and submission to authority all rolled into one and amplified a thousand-fold.

"Which reminds me. Archer, hunt down your previous Master for me, and kill her. She shouldn't have gotten far, but I've learned not to underestimate Bazett."

Still, that didn't mean there was _no_ room for rebellion.

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"I refuse to hunt down some woman when she's not even part of the War anymore, when she's half-dead and dying anyway, just to satisfy you. I'll participate in the War, much as I dislike your methods. I'll follow your plan of fighting each Master/Servant pair to get a handle on their abilities for you. I'm even willing to kill in the course of the War, I know full well such things are sometimes necessary. But I _will_ not hunt down an innocent on your say so, and if you want me to, you'll need to use a Command Seal. And I'm no expert in those, but I don't think they grow on trees even if you _are_ the Moderator."

Kirei met her gaze impassively. "I will warn you, Archer, I have no use for a Servant who will fight me every step."

Mami put every ounce of conviction she could muster up into her answering glare. "I just said so, didn't I? I won't fight every step, but every inch beyond a certain line you _will_ have to compel me. I've not always made the right decisions, but I _have_ always tried to live as an example to those that come after me."

The two stared at each other for a moment. That moment stretched on, and on, until-

"Servant," Mami said, her head snapping round. "Approaching the church – no, they've stopped. They've sensed me."

Kirei clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Che. Bad timing, I had hoped to send you off before others came visiting. It wouldn't do to have a Servant seemingly defending the church. Head up and observe, Archer. If they approach further, engage, but as far from the church as you can manage."

"Fine." Mami stood, dusted herself off (a pointless habit, given that her costume was made of spirit-stuff and couldn't exactly get dirty), then went immaterial. As she launched herself up through the roof, landed on the church tower and summoned one of her longer muskets, good for long-distance work, she heard her Master's voice in her mind once again.

"_Very well, Archer, I will let you off the hook for now. We will conduct the first stage of the War as planned, and then… then we will see what we can do with you._"

Mami said nothing back, only scanned the expanse of buildings below for any sign of the Servant, who hadn't moved from the spot they'd stopped in. It was odd having such a wide space with such low buildings – she was used to the Mitakihara of the future, where space was even more expensive than in these times and the architecture had reflected that, vast fields of skyscrapers dominating the skyline as far as the eye could see.

No, this time was very different. Mami hoped she'd be able to get used to it.

Settling in on the tower, Archer, Tomoe Mami, the Servant of the Bow, began the old familiar routine of surveying the scenery for evil to vanquish and monsters to destroy. She ignored the feeling that she'd find more if she looked down below her feet instead.

* * *

Elsewhere, a boy slept in the old outbuilding of his house. In the morning, he'd catch hell from his older sister and his underclassman, but for now, he was exhausted from the previous evening's work and his late-night training.

The outbuilding was cluttered with a seemingly random assortment of objects – electric heaters, lamps, a rice cooker. Most of them were broken, with a scattering of tools around them. The boy lay in the middle, seemingly not at all bothered by the spanner under his elbow.

There was a small, pure white creature in the room. It hadn't been there a moment ago. It had simply appeared on the windowsill, with no fanfare or ceremony. The bounded field surrounding the house and grounds, set to sound an alarm if anything with hostile intent entered, didn't react at all.

After all, one would need to be capable of feeling hostility to set it off.

The creature stared unblinkingly at the boy, its expression unchanging. If it was surprised by what it was seeing, it gave no sign.

Cautiously, and making no noise, the creature leapt cat-like down from the windowsill next to the boy, and sniffed his left hand, where three faint red marks had appeared just after the boy had fallen asleep. Then it sat back on its haunches. One would have said it was pausing for thought, though again this was impossible to tell from its expression.

Eventually, it decided that it hadn't sensed anything worth investigating after all, and left as suddenly as it had appeared.


	5. Chapter 5 - Arrow

Emiya Shirou woke in the early morning light, and stretched, arching his back. He immediately wished he hadn't – somehow, a spanner had worked its way under his shoulder blades, and he hadn't even felt it. Why was something like that in his bed?

Oh. He must have fallen asleep in his workshop again. To be fair, he'd been pretty exhausted – physically, by the work at his job in the café; mentally and magically by his exercises after returning home, after finishing dinner. It hadn't worked, again – he hadn't managed to reinforce the spanner. He'd made his circuit just fine, no problems there, and he'd even managed to use structural grasping on the first try, for a change, but reinforcement had eluded him for the night.

Well, he'd just have to keep working at it. Nothing for it.

Not now though. His sister and his underclassman had caught him having exhausted himself far too often for his liking, and had made their displeasure clear. So right now he'd probably best head back to the house as soon as possible and pretend he'd been in bed all-

"Senpai."

Crap.

"Ah, hi there Sakura. Would you believe I got up early to finish some work and dozed off, and definitely didn't fall asleep in the workshop?"

"Again."

"…again, yes."

Matou Sakura considered, putting a finger to her lips in thought. Then she smiled down at Shirou from where she was kneeling over him, violet eyes twinkling. "No, I wouldn't, and neither would Miss Fujimura. You'll just have to accept your punishment, senpai."

Shirou sighed, and ran a hand through his red hair. "I was afraid of that. Well, hopefully I can temper the Tiger's reaction a bit by cooking her her favourite breakfast…"

"I already made breakfast, senpai," Sakura interrupted gently. "It's Spanish omelette and sourdough toast, with the rest of that apricot jam on the side."

"Oh, Western food, is it? I'll be interested to see how you're getting on with- wait." Shirou narrowed his eyes. "Fuji-nee doesn't like Western food so much."

"O-oh dear, is that true? I forgot," Sakura said unconvincingly, twirling her purplish hair between her fingers and avoiding Shirou's eyes. "I guess now you won't be able to buy her off with food. Sorry about that, senpai."

"You… deliberately made food she didn't like, and waited until you were done to wake me up… you're angry at me for sleeping in the shed again, right?"

"That would just be petty," Sakura said. She stood up. "Come on, senpai. Breakfast is getting cold."

Shirou followed her outside, stretching as he did so. He _had_ slept in, but since he usually tried to get up no later than half past five, the sun was just barely over the horizon and the air still had lingering traces of morning mist. There wasn't much traffic to speak of this early in the morning, certainly not in the suburbs of Fuyuki, and what little noise there was was muffled by the high wall surrounding the Emiya house. With its old-style design and layout, you could almost believe you were back in time, in some medieval manor…

…until you stepped into the kitchen and dining area, whereupon one would notice the high-end cooking appliances and low-end television.

"Good morning, Miss Fujimura," Sakura greeted the short-haired young woman sitting at the table. "Senpai called you by your nickname again this morning."

"I thought you said you weren't angry!" Shirou yelped, shooting a betrayed look at Sakura.

"I said it would be petty. I can be petty if I want to." Sakura set her mouth in what was probably supposed to be a determined line, but on her looked like an adorable pout.

"Quite right, Sakura!" Fujimura Taiga boomed. "A woman has the right to be angry whenever she wants for no reason whatsoever!"

"Is that why you switched the labels on those sauce bottles the other day?" Shirou groused. "It took me forever to taste-test everything in the house to see if you'd done anything else."

"Nope! That was for using my nickname." His sister's eyes filled with tears. They were probably fake, although Shirou had been taken in the first dozen times and Taiga was getting better and better and making them look genuine. "And now Sakura tells me you haven't learned your lesson! Do you like making me cry, Shirou, is that it? Making me _worry_, and _fret_, and miss the little boy I raised-"

"…you didn't raise me…" Shirou mumbled, but there was no stopping Taiga.

"-and just what would your poor father say if he knew you'd grown into such a heartless young man, and I've always been your Fuji-nee and always will, and you're bleeding, and- eh! Shirou, your hand!"

Shirou looked. There were indeed some angry red weals on his left hand, the very edges of which were leaking blood. When had those gotten there? He was pretty certain they hadn't been there when he'd gone to sleep…

"You should take better care of yourself, senpai," Sakura fretted, hands clasped on her chest. "I don't know what you do in there, but it surely can't be worth it if it makes you tired enough you don't even notice an injury like this!"

Taiga wailed again.

"Alright, alright!" Shirou said. "I'll go and put a bandage on it, if it'll make you feel better. It's honestly just a scratch, Sakura, Fuji-nee, it doesn't even hurt." He made his way to the kitchen cupboard, upon the top shelf of which the first aid kit was stored.

"Could you…" Taiga sniffed wetly, "could you do me some rice and soup while you're over there?"

Shirou sighed. "Fine."

"Hurrah! I knew you were a good boy really!" Taiga cheered.

The young man shook his head, smiling fondly. "So, am I off the hook for _allegedly_ using your nickname again this morning?"

"Certainly not!" Taiga roared, all vigour restored at the prospect of proper Japanese food. "Hmm, what shall your punishment be? I won't be so unoriginal as to mess with the food again so soon… ah! I've got it! Since Sakura was conscientious enough to inform me of your transgression, I'll give her a reward! For the rest of the day, you have to do as she says!"

Sakura, who had been watching the proceedings with a satisfied smile ever since Shirou's hand had been properly bandaged, startled, nearly falling over onto the floor. She regained her balance, but not her composure – her face was beet red. "M-miss Fujimura!"

"No – my decision is final! How about it Sakura? You can make him carry your bags for you, or buy you lunch, maybe. You could even make him take you on a date after school, how about that!" Sakura made a noise that sounded something like 'gleep'.

"Fuji-nee, that's not funny," Shirou scolded. "Look at her, she's all embarrassed now." Taiga always seemed to be trying to set him and Sakura up for some reason. From the younger girl's reactions, she found the whole idea entirely mortifying. Well, of course she would – with as much time as she spent around Shirou in domestic situations, she almost certainly thought of him as an older brother figure.

Shirou was just fine with this, since Sakura's _actual_ older brother was… somewhat substandard.

Well, uh, mostly fine. He couldn't deny that Sakura had only been getting more and more pretty as the years went by, and more than once he'd had to firmly remind himself that this was _Sakura_, for goodness' sake, it was Shinji's little sister and might as well have been his as well. It was a good thing she obviously didn't feel the same way, or who knows what might have happened, either due to or despite Taiga's 'helpful little nudges'.

"Come on, Sakura," the woman needled, "surely there's _something_ you want him to do?"

"There isn't, so drop it," Shirou huffed.

"Actually…" Sakura began in a small voice, "there is _one_ thing…"

* * *

Shirou stood next to Sakura, looking up at the sign above the door to one of the school's outbuildings.

_ARCHERY CLUB DOJO_

"Look, senpai, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to…" Sakura said, nervously. Shirou shook himself, then looked at his underclassman, making an effort to smile.

"I don't mind, Sakura. It's just been a while. I wonder if they'll even be happy to see me again – I did just sort of leave them hanging, after all."

"Don't be silly, senpai. Everyone will love to see you. I'm not the only one that wants you to come back, you know." Sakura blushed, looking down, then met his gaze again.

Well, how was Shirou supposed to say no to that?

"Alright. I'm here now, in any case. After you, Sakura."

Sakura's smile convinced Shirou he'd made the right choice. "Right!"

She entered, bowed, and made her way towards the changing rooms. Shirou followed, wondering if his old archery uniform still fit. The pair had arrived a little later than the rest of the club, and the sounds of activity came from the main dojo area.

He'd been alright at it, and had actually quite enjoyed the meditative nature of the sport. The way you had to devote your mind fully to the process of firing the arrow, removing your 'self' entirely until all _you_ became was a method of shooting the bow, uncaring of the final result of hitting the target, spoke to him for some reason. Very possibly it was because of his additional training as a magus, where one had to do something similar to make one's circuit.

But he'd got in an accident at work, leaving a small but noticeable scar on his shoulder – and that sort of thing really wasn't acceptable in archers, who were supposed to be more careful than that. Okay, almost no competitions were actually strict enough to enforce something like that, and certainly no-one at the club had cared, but it still rankled at Shirou. If you weren't going to follow the old traditions when practising traditional Japanese archery, what was even the point? And if he therefore couldn't compete in competitions, and help bring prestige and honour to the club, what was the point in him, Shirou, going there? He'd rather use the time to help out his friend and student council president, Ryuudou Issei, instead; which would at least make life easier on not just Issei but the rest of the students as well.

Still. It wasn't like going back was totally pointless. It'd be nice to see Mitsuzuri, the archery club captain again, and of course Sakura was overjoyed. Maybe he could even help out a few of the freshmen with getting into the proper mindset – Shirou wasn't sure if he was best qualified to teach the process of archery but he thought he was at least competent at the mental side of things.

Shirou's old archer uniform did in fact still fit him, and he found himself stepping out of the changing room at the same time as Sakura, on the other side.

"Oh, you look great. The uniform really suits you now, Sakura," Shirou said. It was true – initially Sakura had always looked like she was wearing someone else's clothes when practicing, partly because she'd bought them on the assumption that she'd grow into them and partly because Shirou just found it hard to associate his shy and demure underclassman with any kind of martial art, even one as mentally-focused as archery. But now, well, she'd grown into it. She looked entirely comfortable, if a little flustered and embarrassed by the reminder of how awkward she'd been at first.

"R-right. Then, shall we?"

They walked together into the main area of the dojo – which was to say, a glorified covered walkway looking out over an open courtyard, at the far end of which stood the straw and canvas targets. Several of the students, the ones fastest at cleaning and setting up the bows, were already practicing, but they looked up at the sound of Shirou and Sakura entering.

"Hey, look who it is!"

"Good job, Matou, you brought him back!"

"Hi, Emiya, how's it going?"

Shirou stopped short at the unexpected warm reception, but recovered, putting on his best smile and greeting the people that came up to talk to him. Sakura also seemed to be quite nervous at the attention, shrinking closer to Shirou's side as the people pressed in.

Shirou was just explaining why he'd left for the umpteenth time to a freshman girl he remembered as being quite eager to ask him for help, when she was abruptly swept aside and Shirou was socked on the arm.

"Dammit, Emiya, who the hell gave you permission to come in here and distract all my club members?" demanded Mitsuzuri Ayako, though she was trying to hide the pleased grin on her face. "Seriously, though, I'm glad you're back. It's a relief to have someone else who knows what he's doing around here!"

"Well, don't get used to it, I'm just here because Sakura asked me specifically," Shirou put in hastily. "I'm not coming back to the club on a more permanent basis or anything." There was a collective moan of disappointment from the collected club members.

"Alright, that's it, get back to practice! You can talk to Emiya later on at school, it's not like he's hard to find!" yelled Mitsuzuri. The club members largely returned to what they were doing. One, however, stayed behind a little longer.

"Yo, Emiya. Shouldn't you be mopping a hall or something right now?" Matou Shinji smirked. Shinji was the vice-captain of the archery club, Sakura's older brother, and, depending on how you defined it, Shirou's oldest friend. He was also, Shirou was willing to admit, a bit of a dick. On the other hand, how was Shinji to learn any better if no-one showed him a good example? In the meantime, Shirou was more than happy to be Shinji's verbal punching bag. Better him than Sakura, for instance.

"Yeah, I'm feeling a bit guilty about blowing off Issei. But, well, Sakura wants me around today, and who am I to refuse?"

Shinij's expression soured. "You're a funny man, Emiya. Just don't step on my toes when I'm doing my thing, got it? Some of us have a club to run and underclassmen to train."

"No, I got it. I'll just be over here with your sister."

Shinji bristled, and looked as if he was going to say something more, but apparently thought better of it. With a huff, he turned and stalked away.

"You shouldn't needle him like that, senpai," Sakura said, tugging at her uniform.

"No, you totally should, that was hilarious," Mitsuzuri cut in. "Look, we do in fact have a club to run and underclassmen to train, but I'm fine for you to do whatever, Emiya, I trust that you won't do anything dangerous." She went to supervise the rest of the club, and Sakura and Shirou were left mostly to their own devices.

Shirou found it fairly easy to slip into the old meditative mindset, even while helping Sakura. Actually, he was surprised she needed as much help as she seemed to; almost every other shot she was asking for advice or stopping to watch how Shirou himself was working. Well, maybe he was throwing her off. Shirou tried as hard as he could simply let himself slip away, become the process the delivered the arrow to the target, let go of all distractions…

"No, you idiot, just hold it steady… how are you not getting this?"

"I- I'm sorry, Matou-senpai, I just-"

"Oh my god, what are you doing? This is literally the most trivial part and you can't even grasp it-"

_CRACK_.

"You stupid girl! Look what you've done now!"

"I'm sorry Matou-senpai!"

Oh, brilliant. Shinji had apparently found someone committing the crime of not doing things perfectly and had decided to go pile on the pressure until they made a mistake. Or perhaps he'd call it 'passing on his valuable experience'.

People were clustering round the pair now, but Shirou pressed his way through anyway. There wasn't really anyone else in the club who could handle Shinji once he got going, not without getting angry and giving him what he wanted.

"Shinji! That's enough, it was obviously an accident."

"Are you kidding me, Emiya? This is the most elementary shit in archery, I honestly don't see how this can be anything else but an attempt to make me look bad, for some petty reason." The girl he'd been bullying, some freshman he'd never learned the name of, burst into tears.

"You're being ridiculous, Shinji. I hate to break it to you, but no-one cares about you enough to bother doing that. Now apologise to her."

"Pfft. As if," Shinji sneered.

Shirou looked straight into Shinji's eyes. "I'm entirely serious, Shinji. You apologize for making her cry. This isn't how a senpai should act, let alone a vice-captain. Just say you're sorry, and move on."

Shinji blinked. "I don't need you being uncooperative and preachy at me, Emiya. I get enough of that at home these days…" he muttered.

"Huh? Since when is Sakura ever uncooperative and preachy to you, Shinji? If anything she should stand up for herself more."

"Oh, forget it, you wouldn't understand. Whatever, I'm sorry you can't take any instruction whatsoever, Kobayashi." With that, he stormed off towards the changing rooms.

The girl, apparently Kobayashi, looked up as he approached. "Emiya-senpai, I'm sorry! I was just-"

Shirou had already worked out what had happened. "You dry-fired, right? Loosed the bow without an arrow in it."

The girl nodded. It was obvious from the way the limbs of the bow had cracked, almost completely through – if Kobayashi was any stronger the bow might not even be in one piece. No doubt Shinji had just made her so flustered and upset that she'd forgotten not to let the string fly back when practising the correct way to hold the bow.

"Don't worry," Shirou said, weighing the bow in his hand, "I think it looks worse than it is…"

Still. It wasn't completely unsalvageable.

* * *

Not if you had magic, at any rate.

That day, after school, Shirou had completed the work Issei had for him, but took his time about it. When he was sure the after-school practice had finished, he went back to the archery dojo.

Repairing a bow was a little different from what he'd done before. When Issei called him in to repair, say, a broken heater or glitching projector, he'd simply perform a certain handy little spell called Structural Grasp.

This spell revealed the internal workings of any object that Shirou focused on, delivering them straight to his mind without bothering with such sloppy media as sight or feel. Using structural grasping, it didn't matter how much material was between Shirou and the source of the problem, or how subtly some component had broken, he could identify what was wrong.

Apparently there was more that could be gained from the spell if you were good enough at it – things like how much magical energy was contained in the object, any spells that were active on it, that sort of thing. Shirou wasn't sure if he'd ever be good enough to detect something like that using structural grasping. Still, it wasn't like he had a whole lot else to practice, so maybe inspiration would strike somewhere along the line. Shirou was not the best magus around. In fact his father, the man who'd taught him everything he, Shirou, knew, didn't even use the term – instead, they were 'magic users'. This seemed fair enough. If he was part of an ancient society of wizards, he wouldn't want people like himself to count as one of their members.

Still, he had to admit it was pretty cool. He could do goddamn magic, for goodness sake! So he made it a point to practice every single night, even if the process of making his circuit hurt like a red-hot steel rod jammed down his spine. Not for the first time, he wished he was a proper magus, with pre-existing circuits, but needs must. It was a small price to pay to be able to do magic.

So, uh, anyway, he usually just used structural grasping to find out exactly what was wrong, and more often than not it was something fixable given the tools he had with him.

With the bow, it was obvious what was wrong, but that kind of thing usually required professional tools to fix.

So Shirou would have to use the other spell he was particularly good at. Correction, the other spell he could actually perform. Reinforcement.

Reinforcement was, as far as Shirou could see, a bit more conceptually complicated than structural grasping. The basic idea was that objects had properties that existed in and of themselves as a part of the framework of reality – there really was a concept of 'redness' that was instantiated or tokenised to a greater or lesser extent within an apple, rather than this simply being a product of reflected wavelengths with no greater ontological weight than that already provided by the pigment in the skin, wavelength of ambient light shining on said apple, and so on. This must be the case, because when magic entered into the picture, it was possible to selectively enhance one or more properties, and thereby affect all facts about the target object that had said property as a factor.

You _could_ read it as simply changing every fact about the target such that the property (in this view dependent on said facts and having no existence of its own) was magnified… except that one could, via reinforcement, alter facts one was unaware of. (Magi had been enhancing the redness of apples long before it was known that pigments made apples red.) The more parsimonious explanation was that there really were properties, and one really could directly alter them.

(Shirou had often wondered just how many questions philosophers had been debating for centuries would be instantly solved just by asking a magus. It seemed sort of unfair, but, well, magic.)

Well, a fully trained magus really could directly alter properties. At the moment Shirou could only reliably increase something's durability. Somewhat reliably. Reliably, that was, once he'd made his circuit, which _wasn't_ reliable in any way, shape, or form.

On the other hand, everything seemed to be going smoothly tonight. Shirou concentrated, and began the process of making his circuit. Real magi had special organs in their bodies called 'magic circuits', which were analogous to electrical circuits in a computer in that they allowed the flow of magical power, transforming and refining it from raw magical energy, _od_, into the magical energy usable for spells, prana. This energy was capable, given the right circumstances, of affecting the Inner World, which would in turn cause effects on the Outer World (which was to say, everything you could see and touch and otherwise interact with).

It hurt. It hurt a _lot_, and this was because a magic circuit was a partially spiritual organ in a physical body that was never designed for it. If overused, it would heat up, causing exactly the expected damage when one had extremely hot objects within one's body. Magic beyond one's capabilities would kill the caster, and to be a magus was to walk with death – this was the first thing Shirou's father had drilled into memory when he had begun to teach Shirou.

And this was just for normal magi, who already had magic circuits. Shirou had to introduce such a foreign organ into his body just to begin practising, and it hurt exactly as much as installing a new nerve would be expected to. Still, if he lost control and it went wrong he'd die, so Shirou just had to bear with it. After a few minutes, panting heavily, Shirou sat back in the deserted dojo, the proud owner of a new and decidedly substandard magic circuit. It'd do.

Prana was the raw stuff of magic, the ingredients. The act of casting a spell, then, was like applying the process of a recipe to those ingredients to make a cake. (Or so Shirou's father had explained it to him. For obvious reasons, Shirou liked this analogy.) Like cookery, the process was irreversible – just as you couldn't obtain a bunch of flour, sugar, and eggs by anything you might do to a cake, you couldn't get back the magical energy you put into a spell.

Also like a cake, your spell wouldn't last forever. Shirou had had a little trouble with this bit, since it touched on metaphysical concepts and was such a fundamental part of magic that he'd had to learn it before he'd even heard the word 'metaphysical'. Basically, the world hated magic. More complicatedly, there was an entity, for lack of a better word, called Gaia, which governed things like nature and the laws of physics – this was known as the common sense of Gaia. Essentially, everything that went on without magic, and ideally without humans as well, all of that was contained within the common sense of Gaia. Human natural philosophy was essentially just mucking around with different inputs to observe outputs and determine the way Gaia preferred things to be done.

Magic was _not_ governed by Gaia, which presented problems when it was materialised within a world that was. Over time, Gaia's presence would erode any magic, overriding the specialised rules created by magi as part of a spell (the 'foundation', which had its own metaphysical weight in itself, and which wasn't necessarily evenly distributed among all magi; this was most of the reason why older magus families were more powerful and why you kept your spells as secret as possible) with the more general ones of Gaia's common sense. There wasn't any way to stop this erosion as far as Shirou knew, only keep it at bay by providing extra prana periodically to a spell you wanted to keep going indefinitely – this would bolster its force of existence, for lack of a better term, and make it take longer for Gaia to reassert control over the local physics.

Reinforcement, luckily, was a relatively stable branch of magic as far as erosion by Gaia went, since it was only enhancing what was already present, and as such it took longer for Gaia to 'notice' that something was amiss. If Shirou had been capable of directly fixing the bow, it might not have lasted so long as the solution he was about to attempt for this very reason. Although that was possibly a case of sour grapes.

Shirou took out the small tube of wood glue from the toolkit that Issei had given him to keep in his locker. It was good at what it did, but it certainly wasn't rated for repairing bows, which were designed for taking lots of stress, a lot of times. Actually Shirou wasn't even sure if glue was the correct tool for mending the cracks produced by a dry fire – he suspected that even a top-rated one would produce points of weakness that would render the bow unusable. Fortunately, magic.

This was going to be a bit more complicated than anything Shirou had attempted before, but if he could pull it off it would be worth it. Besides, Shinji might not have been as upset had Shirou not been there, and might not have bullied Kobayashi to the point of her dry-firing, so he felt responsible. Time to get to work.

Closing his eyes, Shirou placed his hand on the glue, and muttered his own personal Aria.

"Trace on."

This was his way of essentially hypnotising himself, getting his mind into the correct process to alter the Inner World using prana. There was more to it than that, of course – magic was a very complicated process, but you couldn't really expect anything else from an art based around hacking reality. Shirou began the process of structural grasping, letting the information flow into his mind. Within a couple of minutes, he had a complete picture of the wood glue, its shape inside the tube, the little bits and pieces that made it _stick_.

When he really focused like this, Shirou could sometimes get a sense of what the object was for, the basic function it was intended to perform. His father hadn't said anything about it, but probably it was included in the understanding of the physical structure, which was really just information delivered magically to the brain anyway – likely the caster needed some context to interpret the signals in a coherent fashion. In this case, obviously, the wood glue had been created to join two things together. Shirou homed in on this sense, ignoring the rising discomfort form his makeshift circuit. Then he reinforced the conceptual property of 'stickiness', if stickiness was the right word.

Of course, it was easier said than done. His circuit blazed with fresh pain, and Shirou had to focus entirely on his structural grasp of the wood glue, and especially the sense of function that he'd dubbed 'concept of creation'. He poured magic into the concept at a steady pace, not letting too much out of his control, but never easing back enough that the spell failed entirely. It was like starting a car on a hill, except that this car would explode and kill you if you lifted the clutch too fast, rather than simply rolling back down the hill or stalling.

Finally it was done, after – Shirou checked his watch – a solid seven minutes of effort. Sweat was pouring down his face, and his back was killing him where he'd inserted his circuit, but he could tell without looking that he'd achieved what he set out to do. The tube of wood glue in his hand was, for now, the best damn tube of wood glue in the world, and would bind together two objects about as well as anything else could possibly achieve.

Shirou was actually kind of proud of himself. Not only had be managed to reinforce something on the first try, but he'd reinforced a property and not just the durability! Okay, it was a property pretty close to durability in the first place, and the property most tied into that objects existence, but still!

The next bit was, comparatively, easy. Shirou poured the glue into the cracks in the bow, being extra-careful not to get any on his skin or clothes. With how powerful the glue was now, he'd be stuck to whatever he touched until the spell wore off or he ripped off his skin, neither of which were fantastic as options went. Then it was simply a matter of holding the cracked parts of the bow together for about a minute to allow the glue to set.

It was… done. Shirou picked up the bow and tested it a couple of times, bending it and letting it go (_slowly_) a couple of times. Nothing seemed wrong, the bow worked about as well as it had before. But Shirou couldn't just leave it like that, or people would get suspicious. Which was why he'd told people the bow was less damaged than it actually was, and that he'd fix it after school. He put a quick wrapping of tape around the bow, and put it back with the others. Job done, damage repaired, secret of magic hidden.

Shirou checked his watch. He was actually slightly ahead of schedule – the reinforcement had been a lot smoother than he'd expected, and he'd budgeted for at least another half-hour in his accounting. Well, that was all to the good; he'd apologetically bowed out of helping Issei with the school council paperwork in order to fix the bow, but now he could go and see if he could lend a hand after all.

Humming to himself, Shirou walked into the main building, stepping out of his outdoor shoes at his locker. As he did, though, he heard a voice coming from a couple of rows over. A girl, apparently talking on a mobile phone; at least he couldn't hear another voice.

"…I think that's everything I can fit in here. I mean, I do have to put my shoes in as well, you know. …yeah, well, some cultures like to keep our buildings clean rather than tromp around mud and god-knows-what else inside. Wait, you haven't been changing your shoes when coming into my house either! Oh, yuck!"

Shirou blinked. He… knew the owner of that voice. Not _well_, he wasn't the type of person to know her _well_, but nevertheless she wasn't someone you forgot.

Okay, fine, Emiya Shirou had a little bit of a crush on Tohsaka Rin.

Not, like, a massive one! He didn't follow her around at school, or collect pictures of her, or make it a point to know every fact there was to know about her, like a couple of other people in the school. Actually, he'd not really talked to her more than the normal amount for two people in the same year but not the same class to talk, whatever that amount was. He knew Tohsaka was quite good friends with Mitsuzuri, and didn't really get along with Issei for some reason, but beyond that he didn't really know her.

But she _was_ the school idol. Word got around. And, well, _pretty_. Shirou was no horndog, but he did notice things like that. (Like Sakura, except he definitely wasn't thinking about Shinji's sister like that, nope.) So yeah, Shirou would recognise Tohsaka's voice when it was coming from not fifteen feet away.

…maybe he could help her with something?

He approached, listening with half an ear to her conversation. Come to think of it, he hadn't actually seen Tohsaka using a mobile before…

"…guess it's time to head up to the roof- huh? You mean here?" Tohsaka's voice became hushed. "You're right, I just didn't notice since your signature is so massive. …no, I'll deal with it."

Suddenly Shirou was grabbed by the front of his shirt and shoved backwards into the row of shoe lockers. Blinking away spots in his vision, he found himself face-to-face with an angry Tohsaka Rin, fist already cocked back to aim at his face.

"Alright, buster, don't move, speak, or- huh? Emiya?"

"…good evening, Tohsaka…"

* * *

Rin was annoyed, to put it lightly. This was partly because she'd had to wait around for the school to empty before calling Caster in, so that they could store caches of potions and other useful items in school where she could easily get at them, and Rin hated waiting around with nothing to do. Partly it was because she'd somehow missed the unmistakable sense of lingering prana approaching her at her own school – never mind that it was weak, even muted somehow, the fact that she'd been caught off guard like that should never have happened.

Mostly, though, it was because she'd had to reveal a side of herself she'd never usually show to a student – to _him_ of all people. Emiya Shirou.

Rin didn't really move in the same circles as him, but of course she'd heard rumours. The guy would do pretty much anything to help out if you just asked him. Clean your classroom, help with your homework, negotiate with a teacher, anything. It didn't matter if he had something to gain from it or not either – Rin could have understood it if he'd been asking for money or favours, but he wasn't. Rin knew a lot of people found it an admirable quality, but to her, raised in the magus mindset, it was just a bit unsettling to watch. Like he was racking up a massive amount of debt without realising, only in the other direction.

On the other hand, the prana she sensed was so faint as to be barely worth mentioning, meaning that Emiya was probably under some kind of spell. An ongoing hypnosis, most likely. This… wasn't perfect. The only reason she could think of for Emiya to be under a spell was if someone had decided to spy on the school – spy on _her, _specifically. And Matou Shinji, too, she supposed, the other member of the founding families at the school. Come to think of it, weren't Emiya and Shinji friends? That'd be it then.

"Hey, Tohsaka, what's with the whole shakedown act? I didn't bring any lunch money, just so you know," Emiya joked weakly. Rin refocused on him with a glare, then pushed him again and backed off to a more normal conversational distance. She winced internally at how hard he hit the locker, she hadn't meant to shove quite that hard, but covered her discomfort adequately.

"Well, what am I supposed to think when I hear someone sneaking up on me after school when everyone's gone home? You startled me, you ass!" Rin narrowed her eyes, as if an idea had just occurred to her. "Just what _are_ you doing here anyway, if not to ambush me?"

Emiya turned red, and sputtered, "I was just helping out in the Archery club! You can ask anyone there, I was fixing a bow that got broken." Rin would be checking that later. Still, at least he had an alibi. Odds were that he wasn't off doing subversive activities against her – this time – and was acting 'unprogrammed', as it were. "And then I was heading up to help Issei, but saw you were here, and wondered if you needed a hand- oh, right, who were you talking to just now?"

Whoops. Rin hadn't bothered to use telepathy, and had apparently been talking to herself. And she didn't own a phone, so couldn't pretend to be talking on that. Only one option left, then.

"That's _certainly_ none of your business, Emiya. Look, to satisfy your curiosity, I don't need any help with anything at the moment, and if I did you would not be the person I would ask." Not when she had a superpowered and super-loyal Servant at her beck and call, at any rate.

Emiya rubbed his head. "Right, I got it. I'm sorry for bothering you, I guess. I'll head on up and see Issei now."

"He's gone home," Rin said. This was a lie, but Rin planned to make it true as soon as possible. She certainly didn't want either of the two hanging around the school while she was preparing it as a base of operations in her secret war… even if Emiya was unwittingly a part of it.

Rin would have tried to remove the hypnosis, but she had no idea how it was set to react to such tampering. Doing that might kill Emiya instantly, or worse, set him on a murderous rampage. Best just to send him on his way, brush up on mental magic, and remove it properly later. Just as a precaution, she asked, telepathically this time, "_Caster. I don't suppose you can do anything about the spell he's under?"_

"_He's under a spell? My apologies, Master, I'm really not all that familiar with your style of magic. There's the feel of magicka- ah, prana, my mistake – of prana coming from him, for sure, but I thought it was his. If you say he's under a spell, though, I certainly won't argue… in any case, no. I can't do anything about this type of delayed spell… not without drastic measures, at any rate."_

"_Drastic measures?"_

"_Well, I assume you don't want him dead or slaved to _my_ will instead…"_

"…_you were right to assume that."_

Rin broke off, a bandaged hand waving in front of her face. "Hey!"

"Sorry," Emiya said. "You zoned out for a bit. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yes, I'm _fine, _Emiya. Look, go home, I'm serious. Ryuudou mentioned there was much less to do than he thought, so there's nothing more for you to do. Go and, I don't know, get that hand looked at or something."

"My hand? It's just a scratch. Are you sure-"

"Oh my god Emiya, listen to me and go away already!" Rin snapped. She took a breath, and composed herself. "Look, I'm trying to be nice about it, but in case you're not getting the message _I don't want you around at the moment_. Go _away._"

Emiya backed off, holding his hands out placatingly. "Alright, alright, I get the message. Sheesh…" He walked in the direction of the front entrance, shooting hurt looks back at Rin every so often. Rin kept up her glare until he was out of sight.

"_Subtle, Master."_

"Oh, you can fuck right off as well, Caster. Come on, let's drop off the rest at the roof and let's go home."

Rin flounced off towards the roof, Caster's disembodied chuckles following in her wake.

Along the way she managed to find Ryuudou and hypnotise him into going home. She resisted the urge to instruct him to head home and immediately go to sleep, forgetting about all of his homework and allowing Rin to creep ahead of him in the school academic rankings for once. She definitely didn't do that. Ryuudou could probably do with some rest anyway, the self-righteous prick. He was another of those people that just worked too damn hard for no reason that Rin could see…although at least Ryuudou was the student council president and actually had a level of responsibility.

The roof of Homurahara High School wasn't technically supposed to be accessible to students, especially after school hours, but it wasn't like a locked door was going to do anything to stop a magus.

The roof itself was surrounded by a high chain-link fence, and aside from the squat structure that housed the stairwell and radio antenna, and the water tower, there was a whole lot of nothing up there. Still, it was a nice view.

Rin stashed the bag she'd had Caster bring behind the stairwell. Anyone coming up the stairs would have to go out onto the roof itself, then circle back behind the building they'd just come from, and check in the little mini-alley to see it. Just to prevent anyone who actually did do all of that from picking it up, Rin also placed a small bounded field to repel non-magical people. Inside that, Caster waved his hand to place an intricate looking circle described in lines of purplish light, which he described as a 'rune'. It didn't look like any rune Rin had ever heard of, but who was she to argue with the Servant of the Spell? From what he said, it would act as a sort of magical landmine, striking anyone who stepped on it with all the force of a bolt of lightning.

That done, Rin stepped over to the chain-link fence. It was – just – sundown, and the lights of Fuyuki were starting to come on. Caster, dematerialised now that there was no-one around, stepped up beside her.

"It's amazing, the things you've managed to do." For once, Caster's voice was soft. "In my world, this would be the greatest city in the land, a place of wonders and marvels. Here, it is the norm. Your era doesn't have the capacity for great heroes that it did in the past, or that mine still has… but for all that I think it is the better for it."

Rin didn't say anything.

"I agree," came a voice from atop the water tower.

Rin whirled, and Caster whirled faster, placing himself in between Rin and the speaker, materialising as he did so.

Standing on top of the tower was what seemed to be a teenaged girl - Rin's age, or close to it. Her hair was blonde, and done in two loose spirals that came down past her shoulders. She was dressed oddly, with a sort of white-yellow-brown ensemble reminiscent of some Germanic costume. That, and the confident smile she wore said exactly one thing to Rin.

"_A Servant – she snuck up in spiritual form! My apologies, Master. Had I been more vigilant I would have detected her even so_."

"Perhaps I am biased," said the girl in yellow, "but I also feel that the world has become a better place to live for the vast majority of people. Ultimately we heroes do little to change the status quo. Hope and despair tend to balance out, after all… in any case, I apologise for interrupting your night. I am Servant Archer."

Caster muttered, "**Eternal Quester**", and was once more dressed in his black mail and one of his eerie masks that Rin was by now so familiar with – this one a greenish colour. Next, he held out his hand, and a large blade appeared in it. It was almost triangular in shape, apart from three pairs of spikes along the length – but more than that, it emitted a chilling red glow. Caster grasped the hilt with both hands. When he spoke, his voice boiled with an undercurrent of rage. "I am Berserker."

"_Caster? What are you doing?" _Rin asked, aghast.

"_Being underestimated, I hope."_

Archer quirked an eyebrow. "Berskerker? Excuse me for saying so, but shouldn't the Servant of Madness be, well, mad?"

Caster bristled, and his gauntleted hands tightened on his sword. "You say that now, but I think you wouldn't like to be around when the madness takes me. Under Mad Enhancement I become as a raging beast – but I am more than enough to deal with you as I am. Some Berserkers in the past may have kept themselves insane for a permanent power boost, or for more personal reasons. Not me. I don't need it."

Rin hadn't known her Servant all that long, all things considered, but she could tell he was acting different. Rougher. Wilder. More like a Berserker would act? His theatrical skills were impressive if this really was part of the attempt to disguise his Class.

"But I'm feeling merciful," Caster continued. "Leave now, and that'll be an end of it."

"I would," Archer said, "I really would, but unfortunately my Master has ordered me to fight you. I'm not really a fan of fighting others as soon as I see them, but this is a War, after all. So, I should warn you now that I will be trying, if not my best, then reasonably hard to kill the both of you."

Caster growled – that beast-like growl, Rin had heard it before and it was no less intimidating. "Well then, come down here and let's test your mettle."

Archer smiled gently. "I think not, Berserker. I'm just fine with having the high ground, thank you very much."

"Oh?" Caster rumbled. "Stubborn, aren't we? Then I will just have to come to you!" Without any warning, six and a half feet of Servant was suddenly charging towards Archer.

He rushed towards the water tower like a speeding train, the concrete shattering under his boots. Rin had known intellectually that Servants were fast, and had thought she was prepared for literally _anything_ from Caster by now, but this was something else. Caster moved as fast as an Olympic sprinter possibly could, from a standing start, and was only accelerating. One step, two steps, three steps-

_CRACK._

Caster leapt and twisted, swatting wildly at something in the air over his head. There was a clang of metal on metal, and the concrete floor far off to Rin's left cracked as though hit by a sledgehammer. Caster landed, and was back in front of her almost immediately.

"Yes," said Archer, shouldering the flintlock rifle, of all things, that had appeared in her hands, "I wouldn't advise leaving your Master undefended when facing me."

Rin gulped. That had been a _very_ quick draw.

The problem was obvious – while Caster was pretending to be Berserker, he couldn't unload with his ranged spells and fight Archer on equal terms. But if he closed to melee range, Archer had just demonstrated that she would shoot Rin as soon as he was too far to intervene.

In fact, Archer could very easily have done that just then, and by now Rin would be dead and Caster disappearing from lack of prana. Why hadn't she?

Clearly she was toying with them both, making it very clear who the superior Servant was. Well, blow that for a game of soldiers. Rin opened her mouth to order Caster to stop pretending and fry this bitch with a lightning bolt or something, when she heard him chuckle from in front of her.

"Oh, Archer. If you think you've got me cornered, you're sorely mistaken." Caster took a wide stance, and swung his sword, a textbook strike straight down. He was clearly out of range.

So it took Rin completely by surprise when a coruscating ribbon of red energy blasted forth from the sword in the direction of the swing, damn near cutting the top of the water tower in two and leaving a furrow through the metal.

It had taken Archer by surprise too, but she simply dodged to one side, neatly pirouetting out of the way and coming back with another rifle in her hands. She fired, and again Caster was forced to intercept. This bullet, like the last, had been aimed squarely between Rin's eyes.

"Interesting… I suppose this battle won't be as one-sided as I'd hoped," mused Archer. She cast away her gun and a new one formed – then five more standing barrel-down on the ruined water tower roof beside her. "Oh well, I'm sure I'll manage." Caster's eyes widened, and he let rip with another arc of energy, this one a sideways sweep, but it was too late. Archer leapt off the water tower towards the wire fence, her guns travelling with her somehow, and in mid-air fired once, twice, three times more at Rin.

Rin clapped her hands over her ears as she experienced what it was like to be in the middle of a firefight. Archer's guns seemed to be single-shot, from the way she threw each away after use, but you couldn't tell from the sound – Rin wasn't all that familiar with guns, but even she knew what modern semiautomatic pistols sounded like. Archer's guns, Archer's _flintlock rifles_, were that fast, and every shot was fired with the precision of a sniper. If it hadn't been for Caster interposing himself in-between the shots and his Master, deflecting what he could with deft parries with the red sword and otherwise simply taking the blows on his increasingly-battered armour… Rin would be dead ten times over.

Rin moved closer to the centre of the roof. Archer couldn't really be said to be attacking from one direction anymore, and Rin needed Caster to have a free range of motion all around her if she wanted to get out of this alive.

The yellow Servant seemed to have no trouble at all running at full speed along the inch-wide railing surrounding the rooftop while simultaneously summoning, aiming, and firing a steady stream of bullets at Rin. (No, not bullets, Rin realised as a recently-deflected one rolled across her field of vision – musket balls. Archer was pulling off precision marksmanship with musket balls. What the hell.) And for a Servant like Archer, 'full speed' meant, as it had for Caster, looking like a video in fast-forward, her hands a blur as they aimed, fired, threw, summoned, and aimed again. Indeed, she was only trackable by the ribbons she left in her wake, which she seemed to be using as combination stabilising harness and lifeline. In a matter of seconds Archer had traversed the length of the railing and was behind Rin's original position.

Which made it kind of amazing that Caster was managing to _attack back_. Once every few exchanges Caster would again swing his sword and let loose an arc of energy, forcing Archer to leap aside to avoid it, anchoring herself to her launch point with another ribbon. It was something like what jumping spiders did to secure themselves before they leapt, and Rin wondered if Archer had gotten the idea there.

It wasn't as if she, Rin, had anything better to do. _This_ was a Servant battle? Rin had known that Servants were beyond her, but she had thought she could contribute… something. Anything. Instead she was worse than useless, she was a _liability_ even. Haha, nope. She was a Tohsaka, dammit, she would not simply stand by and let her Servant do all the work! Wasn't she the prodigy magus, Average One, and technically owner of Fuyuki city and everything in it? Damn right she was!

"Berserker!" Rin snapped over the continuing sound of gunfire, trusting her Servant to hear her. "I'm laying down suppressive fire - use the opportunity!"

"Right!" came the reply, and Rin readied herself, readying her circuits with the familiar sensation of a knife plunging into her back.

The Gandr was a pretty nasty curse. Even a glancing blow would leave an average, non-magical victim laid up in bed for days, oozing various bodily fluids from every orifice, and generally feeling like they were suffering from a massive hangover after a piss-up in an infectious disease ward. With the help of her family crest, Rin could take the Gandr even further. It was now such a concentrated ball of malice that it flew from her fingers like a bullet made of pure hate, and had about the same effect on anything it struck. A Gandr so advanced that it could interfere with objects physically and not just make people sick was called Finn Shot, and it was one of Rin's specialties.

Rin blasted Archer with everything she had, creating ball after ball of the Finn shot at the tip of her flattened hand and firing them at the yellow Servant.

Only for Archer to shoot down half the curses in mid-air and casually duck the rest, sending return shots at Rin all the while, then once again disappear in a whirl of golden ribbon as Caster's sword sent more red energy to mangle the fence where she'd been standing.

"Dammit!" Rin yelped as Caster's sword intercepted a ball not a foot from her face. "This is just unfair! How is she that good?"

"You don't think the Throne of Heroes accepts just anyone, do you, Master?" Caster asked wryly, although Rin could detect a note of tension in his voice even so. "She's _Servant Archer_, the Servant of the Bow. Of course she's monstrous at long-range combat."

"How kind of you to say so!" Archer called, still firing her guns.

"_You're right, though_," Caster continued, telepathically this time. "_This is unsustainable. Sooner or later I'll make a mistake. It happens, even to me._"

"_Right. We need to get off this roof, for a start – it's acting as a perfect killzone with all the high places that you can't reach."_

"_Agreed. Your plan, Master?"_

"_I'm going to jump off the roof," _Rin said. She began channeling prana to her legs. She wasn't the best at human reinforcement, but then the art was pretty much the most basic thing a magus should be able to do. With this much, she should be able to at least clear the fence. The rest of the way would sort of take care of itself, Rin hoped. "_You'll have to cover me while I get there."_

"_Understood, Master."_

"_On my mark then…" _ Rin took a few short breaths, as hard and fast as she could. Hyperventilating helped when holding one's breath –like, for instance, when sprinting for your life. Without giving an obvious sign, Rin turned and ran as fast as she could, literally as fast as she possibly could manage, away from Archer. Usually in a situation like this she wouldn't go in a straight line, but would zigzag across the roof as often as she could do so and maintain balance; anything to make her slightly less of an easy target. Against the horrifying yellow Servant however, she suspected it would make no difference whatsoever, and so she just focused on speed.

Caster followed on her heels, more than able to keep up with her even while conducting a fighting retreat. Within seconds they were at the fence on the opposite side to Archer, still draped with ribbons from her passage. Rin slowed just enough to bend her knees slightly, and then leapt, twisting in the air and arcing her back in a picture-perfect high-jump technique. All she needed to do was clear the fence, and then they were out of Archer's trap.

Trap?

Oh balls.

With a moment of horrified realisation, Rin finally noticed consciously that Archer's discarded guns were nowhere to be seen once she was done with them. They just disappeared into soft yellow light, almost surreptitiously. Certainly Rin hadn't been paying attention to the process. Nevertheless, Archer only had the one in her hands now, plus another few following her around ready to be called to hand, and the countless others she'd fired and thrown away were just… gone.

_So why where Archer's ribbons still around?_

Frantically, Rin screamed at Caster within her head, "_Caster the ribbons-"_ – but it was too late. The hidden trap was sprung, just as Caster prepared to leap over the fence after Rin.

Everything happened very fast.

Archer gave a sharp tug on the nearest ribbon, which had somehow made its way into her hand, and with a great rush of yellow every single ribbon she'd left behind tightened as part of one massive loop. Tightened right on top of Caster, trussing him up so tight even he couldn't immediately break free.

From nowhere, more than a dozen rifles appeared around Archer, pointed at Rin, and _fired themselves_, Archer clearly no longer bothering to keep up the pretence that her firing rate was limited by something so banal as how many guns she could hold at one time.

Rin began to fall over the other side of the fence, right into the bullets' path.

_Damn it,_ thought Rin. _She outplayed us at every turn._ In hindsight, she should never have gone along with Caster's plan to masquerade as Berserker, but gone all-out from the start… no, actually even if they had the fight would have gone largely the same way, only with spells instead of that long-range sword of Caster's. Shit. Well, there was supposed to be some comfort in knowing that there wasn't anything to be done about your fate, right?

Rin wasn't feeling it.

Neither was Caster, apparently.

**/WULD/**

In the nick of time, the massive Servant's reassuring bulk _slammed_ into Rin like a freight train, knocking the both of them off course and sending them crashing down onto the tennis courts. Rin's shoulder erupted in pain, then went numb. Her ribs skipped the 'going numb' part. Her neck had been badly wrenched by the force of Caster's tackle, and she could do no more than simply collapse on the rubber flooring and lie there…

…but she hadn't been shot.

Caster had, but his armour looked like it had been equal to the task, and the Servant was even now standing protectively over Rin, looking up at Archer, who had moved to stand at the edge of the roof and was looking down at the two of them.

"_Well done, Master," _Caster sent. _"If it hadn't been for your warning I wouldn't have broken out of the damnable ribbons in time to save you. As it was, I had to use the Whirlwind Sprint to get to you in time. I… apologise for that." _Out loud, he called, "I admit I am impressed, Archer. I was so focused on how your peculiar weapons functioned that I completely overlooked the real danger. Your ribbons – those are your primary method for controlling both the battlefield and your opponents, am I right?"

Archer shrugged. "Who knows?"

"I'm right." Caster grinned. "Shall we continue? Maybe _this_ time we can go at it without holding back, for a change. I'm certain I can get my Master to safety before you can get a decent hit in on us, and with my longer having to protect her…"

"You're a lot more talkative now, aren't you? Is this an effect of the Mad Enhancement, or is it something else?" Archer asked. "In any event, no. I made a good faith effort to end both you and your Master's lives… and that's enough for now. My own Master is, apparently, satisfied with that." Her expression, from what Rin could see of it given her position, twisted in distaste.

Caster didn't miss her expression. "Oh? Some friction between you two, is there?"

The teenaged Servant frowned. "Hmph. You're entirely too perceptive. Well, the only hint I can give you is that if you knew my Master, you'd understand. And… yes, you should actually know him. Your Master goes to this school, right? That's why you were taking the time to stash supplies here, because you knew you would be spending a lot of time here. If your Master is in fact a local, then I'm sure they've come across each other." Another wince of distaste. "Ah. He wasn't happy about that… I'm being recalled. Once again, I apologise for being so bloodthirsty, but it is necessary."

"Hah! You should enjoy yourself a little more, girl. What's the point in being a hero if you can't even take pleasure in victory? Because make no mistake; you won, this night." Caster's voice gained an almost hungry intensity. "You'll not win the rematch, though. This, I guarantee."

"Well, when neither of us will tell the other just how much we were holding back, how can we tell?" Archer pointed out. "Until next time, Berserker." She curtseyed, and faded into glowing yellow motes. Rin sagged.

"Caster?" she croaked.

"Yes, of course, Master," her Servant said. His hand glowed with the by-now familiar healing light, and he touched them to Rin's shoulder and ribs.

It was the most wonderful feeling. Like a hot bath after a long day, like cracking your back when you'd slept wrong, like the first glass of water after running for miles. It wasn't sexual or anything – that would just have been _wrongbadwrong_ given who was administering it – but it felt _fucking fantastic_. Still, it didn't quite make up for the agony of having your ribs broken in the first place, so Rin was just fine with never having to experience it again.

"Ahhh. Thank you, Caster." Rin picked herself up off the ground. "In future, just so you know, you have my permission to _stop pretending any time you like._"

"I understand… but in turn, do you realise the advantage this gives us in the next fight we have with Archer?"

"I get it, you were holding back your best skills, and those Words. But Caster, she was holding back as well. You saw that last attack she pulled off – she was barely trying that entire fight, no matter what she said about 'good faith attempt to kill us' or whatever. So the way I see it we're back to square one again, which leaves you and her around equal." Something else occurred to Rin, and she pointed a finger at Caster accusingly. "And don't think I didn't notice that you used your Noble Phantasm and she didn't reveal hers."

"My weaker Noble Phantasm, yes," Caster said. "Archer knows that I was holding back, that was easy to see. But she will believe that I can merely be stronger, faster, maybe my weapon can do more than I showed. She will _not_ expect me to come at her with a completely different style of combat. She will expect me to simply fight as I did just now, but better. So, she will fight as _she_ did just now, better. However, only one of us will in fact know what to expect."

"Well, I hope you know what you're doing- don't give me that look, I know you're a hero with decades of experience but I don't think you've had to protect someone as squishy as me before. Just… don't get so wrapped up in your clever deceptions that you miss the moment when you have to stop holding back." Rin stretched herself out, making sure everything was in order after Caster's healing spell. Her body was a little stiff, but given she'd been tackled by a giant in armour and fallen off a building, she wasn't going to complain.

"Well, I think that's more than enough excitement for one night. We did what we came here to do, and discovered information on a Servant on top of that. Servant Archer, uses flintlock rifles and ribbons as her primary form of attack…" Rin consulted the log of Servant statistics in her head. "No information on her Noble Phantasm, obviously, and I haven't got any information on her Personal Skills, either. Which means she was fighting with pure skill and no gimmicks. Yeesh. Looking at her stats, she's a pretty weak Servant on paper, unless she's got some ridiculous Personal Skill that I don't know about, but she uses what she's got well."

Caster hummed in agreement. "She is extremely skilled. I… I honestly had not expected to be pushed so much in a battle between Servants. It is possible I had been underestimating the competition in this War."

"Oh?" Rin raised her eyebrows. This was the first time she'd heard her Servant act anything less than perfectly confident.

"You must understand, Master, that by the time my legend was done there was nothing in my entire world that could threaten me. I hunted dragons for sport! I defeated the oldest and foulest of undead simply for the sake of completeness! And now to have to really push myself to defeat some slip of girl, to be defeated, even… it's a wakeup call, I can tell you." Caster's expression was deadly serious. Usually there was at least something of a twinkle in his eyes, but not now. "I am feeling something I've not felt in a long while, Master. If _this_ is Archer, if this is Archer barely trying… I am genuinely worried about what the other Servants will bring."

Rin was taken aback. Caster was… scared? No, not scared. But for the brash, dominant man she'd gotten to know to admit to being worried, that had Rin worried too. Certainly she hadn't had any idea what a Servant battle was like until she was being fired at from all sides, with not a prayer of survival without her own Servant by her side. Actually, it was something of a comfort that we wasn't the only one who felt in over her head.

Hell, maybe Archer had felt that way too. She certainly hadn't shown it, but to suddenly be faced with a hero who could block your every shot and attack at long range with a sword couldn't have been comfortable.

"Alright, enough about Archer," Rin continued. "I'm also interested in what she said about her Master."

"Yes. That's possibly a weak point we can exploit, Master," Caster said. "Divide and conquer is a cliché for a reason, after all. For Masters and Servants more than most."

"I agree. I wonder what she meant by 'if I went to this school, I should know… him…'" Rin fell silent. She had that sense again, the sense of having missed something incredibly important. This often happened to her when it mattered most. Follow that sense, follow that sense…

"Master? What's wrong?"

"Caster… you don't think she meant that her Master _also goes to this school_, do you? It might explain why she was here in the first place. And… oh balls."

Hadn't there been a student around just a few minutes ago? One whom she didn't really interact with much? One who might annoy Servants just as much as he creeped Rin out?

_One who had had a lingering sense of prana around him?_

"Oh damn it, he was even returning from the Archery dojo as well… was he taunting me or am I actually that thick?" Rin muttered.

"Pardon, Master?"

"Caster. I think I know who Archer's Master is…"

* * *

Servant Stats (as seen by Rin)

_Class: _Archer

_Name:_ ?

_Master: _?

_Alignment: _Lawful Good

_Stats:_

Strength – C

Endurance – C

Agility – B

Mana – B

Luck – D

Noble Phantasm – D

_Class Skills_: Independent Action D, Magic Resistance C

_Personal Skills_: ?

?

_Noble Phantasm:_ ?


	6. Chapter 6 - Sonatine for Flute and Piano

Shirou breathed a sigh of relief when Sakura and Taiga left early, and locked the door behind them. Obviously he loved having them both at his house, but he wouldn't feel comfortable with Sakura walking home late at night, even with Taiga to escort her. Fuyuki was generally a safe city to live in, Taiga's father ruling over all the organised crime gangs with an iron fist, but you never knew. Anything could happen.

Well, no use worrying about it. Shirou cleared away the used plates and bowls, wiped the table down, and began to wash up. He didn't even have to pay attention to what he was doing, he'd done it so many times, so his brain was free to mull over the events of the day.

Shinji had been _unusually_ obnoxious today. Maybe he was still bitter about Shirou putting him in his place during the morning archery practice, but usually when he was angry at Shirou specifically he was still his confident and overly-friendly self with everyone else. Today he'd just seemed sullen. Shirou had quietly asked Sakura if he was alright, but Sakura had said it was a private matter and that the best way he, Shirou, could help was by staying out of it. Fair enough, but Shirou still wished there was something to do to help out his friend.

Then there was Tohsaka. Shirou didn't have a single clue what _that _had been about, but she'd seemed more irritable than usual today as well.

Wincing at the memory of her bluntly telling him he wasn't wanted, Shirou reached for the next dirty carving knife.

"AAARGH!"

Shirou whirled, bringing the knife up. Writhing on the floor of the living room was an enormous blond man in black chainmail of all things, easily six and a half feet tall. He was yelling fit to wake the dead, and judging by the expression on his face he was in horrible pain.

After a moment the man seemed to purposefully relax, letting his fists unclench, and he immediately sagged, slumping over. He panted heavily for a couple of moments.

"'Suffer', she says…" he said, in perfect Japanese. "That was entirely above and beyond, Master…"

"Um," started Shirou, lowering the knife. "Are you okay?"

The man lifted his head off the floor, fixing blue eyes on Shirou's own. "Heh. That's- ow- that's the first thing you say to an intruder? What a kind-hearted kid you are." He pushed himself to his feet, and stretched, pacing around Shirou's living room. "And an innocent too, I suppose, if I'm not allowed to hurt you like that." His eyes unfocused from Shirou. "You happy now, Master?"

Shirou was very confused. "Who are you talking to? I'm not your master or anything…" He shook his head. That was beside the point. Shirou motioned with the knife, and the man paused in his pacing to look at it. He didn't look particularly bothered, but that might have been because he was covered in chainmail. "Stay back, mister. No sudden movements please – as you see, I'm armed." And also a magus, but the old guy didn't need to know that. Nevertheless, the man raised his hands, palms open, and backed off a couple of steps.

Shirou had a lot of questions, but couldn't decide which one to ask first. 'Who are you?' was a top contender, as was 'Why are you here?', and rising in importance was 'Do you often dress in armour during home invasions?' What eventually came out was, "Look, how did you get in here anyway?"

The man shrugged, armoured shoulder pads rising and falling as easily as if it were cloth. "The door was unlocked."

Shirou thought back. "No, it wasn't."

"Well, it is now." The man pulled out an old-looking key from somewhere on his person, and showed it to Shirou.

"That's not my key."

A chuckle. "Never said it was." The man eyed Shirou speculatively. "You're taking this well, I must say. Too well, you think, Master?"

Shirou shrugged. Halfway through doing it he realised it was the same shrug the intruder had used. He just seemed to have that kind of feel about him that made you follow his lead. "Hasn't really sunk in yet, I guess. Also, I _am_ armed. Please don't forget about that." _Really, please don't_, added Shirou mentally. He wasn't sure of his chances in an actual fight. Sure, he had a knife, but it was designed for cutting dead flesh, not armour. Not to mention, Shirou had no idea how to knife-fight.

"Ah," the intruder sighed. "Well. I suppose I will just have to take my chances." He put the key away, and looked straight at Shirou. Slowly, the man raised his hands and formed them into fists. Shirou tensed. It felt like the man was pointing a loaded gun at his head. Studying Shirou's expression, he spoke deliberately and slowly. "After all, my Master's instructions are to interrogate you as to what you know about the Holy Grail War and Magecraft."

Shirou's eyes widened before he could stop himself. The guy was connected to the world of magecraft? That was bad. His father hadn't taught him a lot about the wider society of magi, but Shirou knew enough to know that if a magus was taking an interest in him it was probably bad news. So this guy was, what, the muscle? Some summoned demon in the shape of a human? He clearly had some kind of direct line to the person in charge, if the way he kept zoning out and talking to a 'master' was any indication.

The man grinned at Shirou's reaction. "Bingo. Master, permission to engage and subdue?" His first step forward shook the room, or so it seemed. "Let's see what you have!"

His first punch launched forward, and Shirou barely dodged, stumbling backwards into the kitchen. The next blow followed close after, and a gigantic fist slammed into the tiles right next to Shirou's neck. They cracked as if they'd been hit with a sledgehammer. There was no time to think, no time to prepare.

"Trace On!"

The knife reinforced itself as naturally as if Shirou had spent an hour doing it. Now it wouldn't chip or blunt even if he hacked through sheet metal with it. Shirou brought the knife up in a clumsy parry, and caught the third punch of the fight right on the flat of the metal. Even so the force bruised his forearm.

"Oh-ho! Excellent!" the man said. "No hiding it now, you're definitely a magus! Not involved in the War, maybe, but my Master has it in for you nevertheless." He advanced on Shirou, heedless of the knife.

"Why? What've I done?" yelped Shirou, waving the knife around at eye level to try and convince the man to stay back. It wasn't working at all. As he backed away, he opened all the cupboard doors, to try and at least present some obstacle.

"Practised magic on her turf, of course. Well, that's the official reason." The intruder winked and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Between you and me, she's actually kinda bad-tempered, and didn't like the idea of you pulling one over on her. Still though, it's none of my business." He paused. "Look, are you actually going to attack with that thing, or did you go through all the trouble of enhancing it or whatever for nothing?"

Good question. Shirou didn't want to just give up, but he didn't fancy his chances against this super-strong giant in close combat. A solution presented itself.

Shirou grabbed the handle of the nearest pan drying on the counter and heaved it at the man. As he'd half-expected, the intruder simply batted it away. And the next one.

The glass vase gave him more trouble, though. Glass shards went everywhere, but mostly into the man's fist and masked face, burrowing awkwardly into the holes in the mail. Shirou took the opportunity and ran for it.

He vaulted the divider between the kitchen and living room, and sprinted down the halls. He was screaming as loud as he could. Partly this was so that someone could hear the commotion from outside and send help, partly because he wanted the adrenaline boost. Mostly it was because he was being attacked in his own home and he was goddamn terrified.

Out of nowhere an armoured fist caught Shirou on the ear. He rolled a couple of times in the dirt before coming to a stop, head ringing.

Dirt? Oh. He'd been knocked clear through the wall and into the courtyard. The side of his head throbbed, and his vision was a bit blurry on the right side. Shirou dragged himself up onto hands and knees, and looked at where he'd been hit from. His assailant approached, almost leisurely. He stepped over the broken panels, shaking his masked head.

"Really? That's it? I'm supposed to keep you alive for interrogation, but if you insist on being so fragile there's really not a lot I can do. For your sake, I suggest you surrender and come quietly, boy."

He should. Shirou really should take the man's advice. The knife had gone flying when he'd been hit, he had no idea where it was. A fat lot of good it had done him, if he wasn't even willing to use it. Nevertheless…

"Look, it's not like we're even going to kill you. Master's a bit weird about that, so even if you're an enemy the worst we'll do is erase your memories." He seemed to wince. "Well, probably. She is really quite angry with you, kid."

Nevertheless, Shirou crawled to his feet, and staggered in the direction of his workshop. Maybe there was something in there he could use. A bokken, a heater he could rig into an explosive, a length of pipe to reinforce, even. A foolish dream. Wasn't he a third-rate magus?

"If you look at it that way, you're just making things harder for all of us. Just more memories to be erased later, you know?" The assailant chuckled. "Mind you, from the sounds of it my Master's planning to remove all memories of magic from your head anyway. That's a big job no matter how you slice it. Good thing I'm here, eh, Master?"

That's right. Even if Shirou reached the shed and picked up a weapon like that there was no way he could do anything against this juggernaut that had invaded his home out of nowhere. Shirou had been lucky enough to have reinforced the kitchen knife on the first try, and he'd managed to lose that in less than two minutes.

Still, there was no way he was giving up. No way he would just let his memories be taken, no way he'd let some random magus have his way with Shirou. Because…

What kind of hero of justice couldn't even defend their own home from some _fucking _barbarian armed only with his fists?

Shirou stumbled into the shed, and lay gasping on the bare concrete floor. The room spun around him. That was one hell of a blow he'd taken, but he'd made it to the shed. What was the next step, again?

Not ten paces away, the man sighed. "By the Nine, you're a stubborn kid. Well, I guess that's to be expected in a magus of this world. Still, I'd hoped to test your mettle a little further… Ah, hold on, Master, I'll finish this now." Seeming disappointed, the man trudged towards Shirou. Shirou kicked the door shut, and looked around the room frantically.

The spanner he'd failed to reinforce last night – nope.

A soldering iron – it wasn't warmed up, and he had seconds left.

A baseball bat? Better than nothing. Shirou picked it up and pumped prana into it as fast as he could. No time to think of failure. No time to really focus on channelling his circuit. No time to structurally grasp the bat beforehand, he just had to do it by feel. Miraculously, he felt the spell lock in as he lifted into a loose chudan guard position. He still remembered that much of kendo, at least.

The door slammed open, and the hulking intruder stepped inside. He spotted Shirou, and smiled. "Cute. You had some sword training, eh?" His smile dropped. "But you're out of time."

There was a thud, and Shirou saw stars. When he regained focus he was on the floor, and his opponent held the bat halfway up the length. He tossed it aside, and squatted down by Shirou's head.

"Sorry, kid, but we're not messing around now." The man's voice wasn't unkind, but it held no possibility for disagreement. "Come along quietly now, lad, or I knock you out again. It's all one to me."

No. No! After he'd tried so hard, he was just going to be beaten?

Why?

Because his opponent was stronger? Because his opponent was faster? Because his opponent fought like he'd been doing it his whole life?

Unacceptable. Even if that was the case, even if that was the unavoidable truth…

_I WON'T BACK DOWN!_

There was a flash of blue light.

For a very brief moment, there were three people in the shed, rather than two.

An instant later, a man in armour went flying out of the broken door, and just barely rolled onto his feet in the middle of the courtyard. He touched the dent in his breastplate as if flabbergasted as to how it had got there, a look of shock on his face.

"Wh-" started Shirou, but he was too dizzy to continue. Still, the object of his amazement seemed to understand well enough.

"Hi! So you're my Master, huh?" said the girl in blue.

* * *

It was an often-overlooked fact that the summoning ritual for the Holy Grail War was not actually all that complicated – or rather, there was no need for it to be complicated. The Greater Grail did most of the work, so all the magus had to do was construct the circle. This piece of formalcraft acted as a trigger to tell the Grail to summon a hero, once someone with appropriate privileges (which was to say, Command Seals) made an exertion of will to begin the process.

Technically a catalyst also had to be present, one which called out to a specific hero. It was a necessary component of the ritual. However, it was perfectly possible to complete the ritual without having first located an artefact belonging to a hero, in which case the ritual would simply use the magus herself as the catalyst. Whether or not this method was advisable depended on the magus in question, since this would always result in a hero with a similar personality to the magus.

(For example, Shirou could have gotten along well with a hypothetical hero summoned by this method, since he would be easygoing and focused on putting others first. Rin, on the other hand, would be dead within days if she had used herself as a catalyst.)

Indeed, one didn't even need any prana to initiate the summoning process. It was preferred, obviously, but in the previous War a man with no access to magic whatsoever had still successfully conducted the ritual to summon a Caster.

In this respect, Emiya Shirou was very lucky. There just so happened to be a long-forgotten formalcraft circle in the shed which was his workshop, left over from the Fourth War. His determination to not give up in the face of overwhelming odds, his unspoken cry for reinforcements, was enough. One could say such a result was almost inevitable from the moment he received his Command Seals.

However, this summoning was irregular in an entirely different way.

Though he didn't know it, Shirou was an existence based around swords. A large part of this was due to the presence of an honest-to-goodness Noble Phantasm in his body, the holy sheath Avalon. It had a weight of existence far greater than pretty much anything else in the shed at that instant – it might have remained so even had the Servant Caster brought out one or other of his more ancient artefacts. With this, there should be no way for Shirou to be matched with anyone other than King Arthur, preferably as Servant Saber. Since the artefact was inside him, he _couldn't _actually use himself as the catalyst, since the ritual should automatically prioritise the Noble Phantasm.

Should.

Maybe it was because Servant Saber had already been summoned. Maybe it was because of the strong resonance between Shirou's attitude and the Servant involved. Maybe it was the very specific instantiation of an obscure Law governing a very narrow scope – a single cycle of magic. Maybe it was divine intervention – or diabolical. Or maybe there was, given a god's eye view, no difference between all of these factors.

Either way, the catalyst for Shirou's summoning was not the ever-distant utopia, Avalon, or even himself. It was an ordinary baseball bat, enhanced but nevertheless swung in desperation. A completely inadequate weapon, but held with pride and courage.

And the hero _that_ called to was someone very different to King Arthur.

(Though less different than she might think.)

* * *

Bazett was extremely confused.

When she'd woken up in her room, she had thought that she'd just had an extremely vivid dream, in which she'd summoned Servant Archer and Kirei had then attacked her for no reason. But she quickly decided it had been no dream. For one thing, no dream was that vivid and coherent. Books and movies liked to show dreams following some story, whether that be someone's memories or the future or just a metaphor for the sleeping character's psyche or what have you. That wasn't how dreams worked in real life.

For another, Bazett was missing her Command Seals. She was otherwise fine – no missing arm, no broken leg, no cracked ribs from her fight with Kirei – but the symbols of her right to be a Master were missing.

How _had _she survived, anyway? As a matter of fact – she gave herself a quick checking over – she felt better than she had in years. Apart from the missing Command Seals, she was in perfect shape. Even setting aside the severed arm, Bazett distinctly remembered breaking her leg kicking down the wooden door that had trapped her in the crypt.

God, that was embarrassing. Usually such an obstacle would pose no problem for her. If she reinforced her body enough and used the runes embedded in her suit and gloves, Bazett could batter down a bank vault door given enough time. (This capability had come in handy more often than one would think.) Unfortunately, she hadn't reinforced her body enough – rather, she'd reinforced the strength _way_ too much in order to escape from Archer's restraints, without compensating by also reinforcing the durability of her bones and muscles. A pretty elemental mistake of reinforcement, but to be fair she'd had other things on her mind at the time. Frankly she was lucky she hadn't overdone it and blown her leg to pieces trying to force prana where it didn't belong.

A moot point, though. She'd been healed – and she couldn't remember anything about how it had happened. To a magus, that suggested hypnotism. Ordinarily it was all but impossible to use mind-altering effects on another magus, since their native od flushed out any foreign prana. In order to affect another magus directly with magic, you needed to either overpower their od or use spells specifically designed to bypass magical defences of that nature. This was the basis of cursecraft, and Bazett honestly didn't know the technical details beyond that point. She'd always considered physical attacks enhanced with runic arrays to be a lot more direct and easy to use, so hadn't really delved into it. There probably _was_ a branch of mind magic specifically designed to affect magi.

In this case, that was unnecessary, though. Bazett's od had been completely drained, first by the summoning ritual and then by fighting off Kirei and Archer, and _then_ by escaping as fast as she could. Any hedge wizard with a basic knowledge of hypnosis could have cast a spell on her. Well, actually Bazett was trained to resist mental interference and coercive techniques even without magic, so it wasn't quite that simple. She supposed whoever had healed her was either powerful enough to make the spell work anyway, or had found some other way around her mental defences. Or maybe Bazett just wasn't as good as she'd thought she'd been.

Bazett lay on her bed in her poky little hotel room, and covered her head in her hands. _So unfair_. She'd made all this plans, done all this preparation, and in the end she'd been a part of the War for less than three seconds! Luck of the Irish, her arse. Well, not bad luck as such, she guessed. More like plain naïveté. Still though, it really was too bad. She probably could have gotten along well with Archer, and from what she'd seen she was fairly… powerful…

Bazett leapt up from the bed and drew the curtains, then sat beneath the window, trying to present as low a profile as possible. This was no time to feel sorry for herself, goddammit! She was in the middle of a war zone! Kirei _definitely_ wasn't the type to take chances with her survival, and would definitely have sent Archer to finish her off. Or at least done the job himself. Bazett tried to remember if she'd actually told Kirei where she lived. She didn't think she had, but she wouldn't put it past Kirei to know anyway. Which meant that she could be targeted by a super-powered sniper at any moment.

Actually, that was true no matter where she was. Bazett had no idea of Archer's capabilities beyond the fact that she used guns and ribbons, but the fact that she'd ascended to the Throne of Heroes at all meant that Bazett should assume she was good enough to kill her target as soon as she was given the opportunity. As long as she remained in Fuyuki, Bazett was in terrible danger.

Well. Situation normal, then.

Bazett wasn't about to let a little thing like mortal peril stop her from doing her job. Because her job wasn't over – her mission had been to ensure on behalf of the Magus Association that the War went smoothly and that magic wasn't revealed to the public at large. Kirei was _clearly_ up to no good and was messing with the ritual for his own purposes, and had acquired in Archer one of the most powerful tools possible to accomplish that. Bazett was the only one who knew about his treachery, thanks to her unlikely survival.

Wait. Maybe her mystery healer also knew about it. If it was a Master that had found her, she probably would have told them as a priority, and that would explain how she'd just happened to run into another powerful magus in Fuyuki. Near the church, no less. Come to think of it, it might not have been the Master's doing – there were many heroes who had some sort of healing ability. Very likely that'd be why her memory was taken, as well, rather than her simply being killed to keep her quiet – a hero probably wouldn't stand for the slaughter of innocents. (Or presumed innocents, rather.)

Okay, her plan of action, then. Spread the word of Kirei's treachery to the Servant and Master pairs, that needed to be done as soon as possible. Hopefully gather some support among those that seemed reasonable and try to take down Kirei. (She'd worry about finding a replacement moderator for the War later, Kirei had to go _now_.) Since she wasn't a Master any longer, she shouldn't be seen as competition by the remaining pairs, and would hopefully be able to stall a fight long enough to convince the Master to at least hear her out.

While doing this, avoid open spaces and loitering near windows, since Archer was likely after her. And if she came across a Master or Servant with significant healing powers, try to pay them back for saving her life.

Right. She might be out of the War, but Bazett wasn't about to quit her goals that easily.

She punched a fist into her palm, and the back of her hand burst into flame.

"Argh! Fucking hellfire!" Bazett swore, shaking her wrist. She looked at her hand, so recently restored. It hadn't actually been on fire, but it damn sure felt that way. Was this some kind of rejection reaction? Misaligned nerve endings? She inspected her hand worriedly.

She gasped.

Three red marks had appeared on her hand, of a different design to the ones she'd had before but still recognisably, unquestionably, Command Seals.

Bazett grinned. Looked like she wasn't _quite_ as out of the War as she'd thought. The Grail had given her a second chance – Cu Chulainn was coming back into the modern era whether he liked it or not.

New plan: summon her Servant as quickly as possible, she simply wasn't safe without one. (And it was the whole point of her being in this country in the first place.) Then, work together with her ancestor to beat that bastard priest's face in. Then, win the War, but try to spare whichever Master had healed her (or ordered her healed), and obviously still watch out for Archer. Otherwise, it was time to romp and stomp as originally planned.

_Yeah_, Bazett thought, as she began placing preliminary runes that would turn her hotel room into a makeshift workshop. That plan was _much_ more her style.

* * *

On balance, Rin reflected, a Servant's eye view wasn't the best vantage point to observe a fight from. On the other hand, she was definitely glad she'd chosen to send Caster in by himself and remain outside Emiya's gates.

As she suspected, there was a subtle but just barely noticeable Bounded Field around the property, so Emiya was clearly up to something occult. Before long, her schoolmate openly revealed himself as a magus, thanks to Caster's poking. However, Rin had been piggybacking on Caster's senses since he made his way into Emiya's house, and had witnessed how Caster keeled over in agony when he tried to assassinate Emiya in the same way as Nakamura. Since her Command Seal a couple of days ago had been focused on stopping Caster from attacking those uninvolved with the War, the fact that it came into effect meant that Emiya wasn't a Master… or hadn't been at the time. Circumstances had apparently changed. Clearly the easiest way to find out what was going on was just to ask Emiya directly, so Rin had had Caster take him in.

That had been the plan.

Now, though, Rin's internal vision was a blur of motion almost too fast to track, for all that she was taking it in through Caster's superb senses. Rather, it was her own brain that was the problem. Even so, she tried to keep up with the impossible display of close combat that was unfolding.

The girl in blue hadn't identified herself, merely blown Caster out of Emiya's workshop with a single kick, exchanged a few words with her new Master, then launched herself across the courtyard and continued her assault on Rin's Servant. Fortunately, she didn't need to reveal her class.

A barrage of blows this relentless could only come from one Servant.

Servant Berserker screamed in fury as she hammered against Caster's guard again and again. Rin was amazed her weapon – a simple steel cutlass, albeit an ornate one – hadn't shattered from the force. She was even more amazed that the blows she was feeling through Caster were coming from such a relatively tiny Servant.

Berserker was a teenaged Japanese girl – around Archer's age, come to think of it. Short blue hair, blue eyes currently widened in a battle-mad rush that was completely at odds with her blue and white knightly costume, complete with long white cape. Even counting the heels on her blue boots, though, she still only came up to around Caster's sternum. Still, she was actually pushing the larger Servant back; Rin could feel him damn near coming off balance with every hit he deflected off his forearm guards.

Caster tried to cast a spell, not for the first time in the fight. A tiny vortex to nowhere appeared in his right hand, and swelled – before Berserker's cutlass slammed into his wrist and interrupted the spell. Caster growled and launched a flurry of punches at the tiny blue-haired girl.

Rin couldn't even follow them with her eyes, but Berserker emerged unscathed. Caster swore as the cutlass rammed into his shoulder, the counter strike having launched even before the enormous fists had retracted.

_How's she blocking all of those?_ she thought at her Servant. _She doesn't look that much faster than you, but she's countering everything you throw at her!_

_No she isn't,_ replied Caster grimly. _Watch again._

His fist whipped out to catch Berserker on the side of the head – but before it could reach, Rin's vision was knocked sideways as that damnable cutlass swept across Caster's chin. The blue Servant continued to press forward, countering with a series of hacks at Caster's torso and kicks to his legs, having escaped the blow yet again.

Or had she? Rin had definitely felt the impact in Caster's fist, and she knew that while it had hardly been full force thanks to Berserker's pre-emptive counter, it could still have knocked a lamppost sideways. How had Berserker blocked it so completely?

_You see, Master?_ came Caster's mental voice. _It's not that she's counter-attacking quickly. She's not counter-attacking at _all. _She hasn't defended once in the entire fight._

That couldn't be right. What kind of hero swordswoman didn't bother blocking? Rin checked her clairvoyant link to see if Berserker's stats revealed anything.

_Wh- what!? S_he spluttered. _A+ rank Endurance? A+ rank Battle Continuation? And that's not even counting Mad Enhancement… She's some kind of freaking juggernaut! She doesn't _need _to defend!_

Caster's worried voice came back, _And so she can concentrate wholly on offence… I need to create space. Brace yourself, Master._

Rin clapped her hands over her ears. Just in time.

**/FUS/ /RO/ /DAH/**

Her ears popped from the sheer _pressure_ of Caster's shout, even hidden as she was on the other side of a wall and with the Servant facing the other way.

Berserker had been right in front of it. She flew backwards as though she'd been fired out of a cannon, and smashed through a wall without losing speed.

"Right", Caster said out loud, sounding more cheerful. "Let's try this properly." The miniature purple vortex appeared again in his right hand. As it expanded, it faded – not outwards, or inwards, but _through_ the air somehow in a way that made Rin wince to see. After a moment, a ghostly blue, almost transparent leaf-shaped sword appeared in Caster's right hand.

With a step, Caster sprang across the courtyard in pursuit of Berserker, who was picking herself out of the wreckage of Emiya's walls. (Rin winced. She hadn't intended for this fight to result in so much property damage. It was a good thing Emiya had indeed turned out to be a magus, and could repair his walls pretty easily.)

Caster waded into battle with a smile on his face, heedless of the snarling girl rocketing into him as soon as she had a decent footing. The fight was a little more even now, with Caster's sword giving him back his natural reach advantage over Berserker. Now that both combatants were armed, Rin could see the difference in swordplay.

She'd probably have said Caster was the better fighter. Berserker had a clear advantage in both strength and speed, but Caster blocked every blow sent his way, and flashed the blade out in a riposte whenever he could. Often these attempts had to be aborted when the next strike from Berserker came. It wasn't flashy, it didn't look very special, but it was doing the job.

Berserker's style of swordplay was _very_ flashy. Which each slash her cape whirled around her, every thrust was overextended to the point of parody, and the girl frequently leapt and rolled around, taking advantage of her lighter frame and greater speed to attack Caster from all sides. And yet, for all that, it wasn't nearly as ineffective as such a showy style should be.

Every thrust was overbalanced because it was made with Berserker's full strength. Nothing was held back. Where she should have fallen over from it she instead recovered smoothly and rolled aside to cut at Caster's legs. Every slash that Caster dodged was followed up with a spinning kick that slammed against Caster's armour like a cannonball, and then again by the cutlass coming back the other way.

And all the while, Berserker's cape swirled around her shoulders. It should have gotten in her way, or tripped her up. Instead if anything it seemed to foul Caster's attacks more often than seemed natural, and the blond Servant often had to pull his weapon free of folds of white cloth that held his blade fast.

All together, Rin could see how Berserker's disdain for defence meant that she could piece together elaborate combinations of attacks that all followed one from another, without worrying about being interrupted. _Which was impossible. _Servants Berserker weren't supposed to be capable of thinking tactically in that kind of way, the clue was in the name.

On the other hand, Servants Caster weren't supposed to hold their own in close combat, either, so Rin could hardly complain.

The fight moved into the main house. From the sounds of things Caster and Berserker were having a good go at destroying Emiya's house completely. Rin kept half a mental eye on the fight through Caster's eyes, and slipped into the courtyard through the gate that Caster had unlocked. It was time to finish this.

Rin didn't know which of the Servants would win. They seemed pretty evenly-matched as far as swordplay went – Berserker was stronger and faster and _much_ tougher, while Caster was larger and not insane.

No, that fight could go either way, although Emiya's house was probably going to lose in every outcome. Rather, the fighters were just too fast and skilled for her to give an accurate assessment on how it was going to turn out.

Her versus Emiya, on the other hand? Yeah, that was only going one way.

It had been less than a minute since Berserker had been summoned, and Emiya was only now coming out of the shed – evidently his workshop, given that he'd managed to summon Berserker there. He caught sight of Tohsaka immediately, and rushed over to her.

"Tohsaka? What are you doing- no, there's no time. Listen, there's some weird foreigner around who randomly started attacking me. This girl appeared and drove him off somehow, but he's still around here, so you have to leave-"

"Relax, Emiya," Rin said, frowning. Was Emiya still going to play dumb? "The guy's with me. Now, are you going to tell me just what you're doing messing with magic in my city? Depending on your answer, I might have to get quite strict."

Emiya goggled. "Tohsaka, you… you're a magus?"

"Correct. I'm the Second Owner of Fuyuki, actually."

"Huh? Second Owner?"

Christ, this idiot. Bad enough he wasn't aware of who the magus who held the territory he illegally practised in was, but he didn't even know that such a title existed? He had that much disdain for the proper procedures? Maybe he was some kind of iconoclast wizard, well on his way to becoming a hermit, as these things were designated.

Well, time to bring him up to speed. Otherwise he might think Rin was just an ordinary magus, and she couldn't have that.

"I said it before, but this is my city, Emiya. As far as the practice of magic goes, that is. If a magus wanted to set up shop here, they'd have to clear it with me first. If for whatever reason they _didn't_, and instead just quietly did God-knows-what behind my back… well, it's like poaching but with the fabric of reality, you understand?

In short, _I'm a bit pissed off with you right now, Emiya._" Rin hissed the last words. Usually she wouldn't get this worked up, but for this guy to just stand there as if he hadn't done anything wrong, even when confronted by the person he'd been deceiving, made her blood boil.

..._this_ was the person Sakura chose to hang out with?

(In Rin's mind's eye, the Servants' fight had reached the bathroom. Caster deflected a strike from Berserker into a wall, and scalding water burst from a split pipe all over the blue Servant. She seemed not to notice, and slammed a kick into the side of Caster's knee. Steam filled the room, and Caster used the opportunity to duck out and cast a spell on himself. His skin took on a blue-black metallic sheen just as Berserker shrieked in fury and flung five swords out of the bathroom. Where had those extra swords come from?)

"Look, Tohsaka," Emiya was saying. "I don't really get it, but I'm sorry, okay? But if you're with that guy, it's dangerous. You could get hurt. … I know I'm probably not the right guy to say this, but I think it's best you get out of whatever it is he's pulled you into. The woman he calls Master sounds like a piece of work."

Rin's eyebrow twitched. "...How much longer are you going to wilfully misunderstand? This is my city, and I'm in control of whatever goes on here. That guy's under my command. He's my Servant. He didn't pull me into anything." Rin smiled. "Oh, that reminds me."

Without giving any signal, Rin's fist smashed into Emiya's nose. The next moment, she was behind him, tipping his head back and forcing him downwards. She could have just let him fall, but instead she caught hold of his arm and placed it in a lock, with Emiya almost sitting at her feet.

Martial arts weren't exactly the most elegant way of taking down an enemy, but they sure were useful.

"Ow? Tohsaka, what the hell-"

"Shut up," Rin said, her tone venom. She activated her Crest, and a Fin shot formed in her hand. She aimed it at Emiya. "I could have maybe forgiven you for practising magic behind my back. But now you're getting involved in the Holy Grail War too? I don't think so. Command your Servant to kill herself, or I will kill you before you become a problem."

Emiya struggled, but he was held fast. He gasped out, "Look, I don't know what's going on-" before Rin reapplied the hold.

"I definitely told you to shut up. Look, you're not fooling anyone. You clearly know about the War, or how were you able to draw the summoning circle to call a Servant? You clearly have some desire that the Grail could fulfil, or why would you be given Command Seals? I'm not sure why Caster couldn't assassinate you earlier, but maybe the Seal only deactivates on those who are actively fighting in the War and you were just preparing to summon your Servant… I'll need to check that later.

As it stands, Emiya, you're my enemy. But you're also my schoolmate, so I'll be merciful. Order your Servant to kill herself, and I'll settle for wiping your memories of magic and letting you live. On the other hand, I'm not exactly a patient person, so you have, oh, let's say five seconds to comply."

Again, the idiot tried to break out of her hold.

"Four..."

CRASH.

Caster came flying out of one of the windows into the courtyard. He rolled and came up onto his feet, just as Berserker came charging in pursuit, kicking the wreckage of the window frame at him almost as an afterthought. Caster blocked the wooden slats with his sword, and prepared to defend against Berserker's next attack.

It didn't go where he expected.

In the moment that Berserker saw Rin and Emiya, she threw yet another sword at Rin – conjured from some space underneath the cape. It didn't tumble, just ripped through the air point-first as if fired from a bow.

Caster frantically waved a hand and fired an icicle on a path to deflect the missile, but it wouldn't get there in time. The cutlass was moving far to fast for anyone to react.

Rin was too entangled with her hold to dodge in time. She closed her eyes and waited for death.

And that was when Emiya decided to throw his whole weight to the side and tackle Rin out of the way, leaving the cutlass to pass inches over her head and embed itself to the hilt in the wall of the shed.

Rin blinked in amazement from the ground. "Emiya… you..."

The boy took a couple of deep breaths. "Look, enough is enough, and people are going to get hurt. Can everyone just **calm down**?" His hand flashed red.

Across the courtyard, Berserker stopped mid-charge, and lowered her weapon. Caster moved in between her and his Master, which Rin was just fine with. He didn't lower his guard, but he wasn't attacking either, likely because it would give Berserker another opportunity.

The tension was palpable. Berserker was calm now, but one wrong move by either of the Masters or Caster could set off that particular powder keg all over again. Rin had exactly one shot to resolve the situation the way she needed it.

She sighed, and let herself go limp, the back of her head touching the ground. "Alright," she said. "I admit I may have been overreacting just a bit."

Caster, damn him, chuckled. "Just a bit."

"Shut up, Servant. Look, Emiya, I'm sorry for trying to kill you and getting your house mostly destroyed and stuff. As repayment, I'll help you fix your house, and give you an idea of just what you appear to have stumbled into. I still can't believe you really had no idea about the War before now, though."

"He didn't," Caster confirmed. "He's got no clue, take it from someone who's been reading people longer than you've been alive."

"Thanks?" Emiya said.

"Right, then. I'll give you the very basics, I owe you that at least. Oh, and one more thing, Emiya."

"Hm?"

"You can get off me now."

* * *

Shirou set the tea tray down on the living room table. He hadn't had much else to do, and making tea usually calmed his nerves.

He was very nervous right now.

The blond man – Tohsaka's servant, apparently – took a cup, and sipped it thoughtfully.

There was a pause.

"Excellent. Your homemaking skills do you credit, boy."

The girl in blue huffed out a breath. She hadn't taken her eyes off the man since they'd all come into the living room. "You're sure being friendly towards my Master. Ya know, for someone who tried to kill him about five minutes ago."

The man waved a massive paw. "That's in the past. A misunderstanding! We'll look back on this moment and laugh, you mark my words, Berserker."

"Ha. Freaking. Ha," deadpanned the girl in blue. The man apparently thought her name was Berserker, although she'd not introduced herself to anyone that Shirou had seen. Maybe it had come out during the fight?

There was a pause.

Shirou offered her a cup. "Here. Come on, let's just wait patiently for Tohsaka to finish. Try some tea."

The girl in blue accepted it, although her eyes didn't leave Tohsaka's servant. She took a sip.

There was a pause.

The girl took another sip. Then she turned to Shirou. "Hey, Master, this is actually pretty awesome! Not gonna lie, never been a fan of tea, but this? This is great."

Shirou smiled. "Glad to hear it. But, uh, you don't need to call me Master. Just Shirou is fine."

"No worries! I'm-" the girl broke off, and seemed to remember Tohsaka's servant again. She glowered. "Never mind, I'll introduce myself later. For now, call me Berserker."

Berserker? Like, those warriors that went mad? That was a weird thing to want to be called. "...alright," Shirou said, reluctantly, "but why-"

"My Master will explain that," interjected the blond man smoothly. "Incidentally, boy, I'll also not give my name to you, if that's alright. Instead, call me Rider."

The girl made a derisive noise. "Pff. Like hell."

"Hm? You don't believe me, Berserker?"

"Uh, nope. For one thing, where's your horse?" Berserker's tone was challenging.

"Well, it would hardly make sense to have man and mount both inside a building. Most impractical, in fact. If you insist, though..." another of his vortexes appeared in his hand. Berserker growled – literally growled, teeth bared.

"No! No, Rider, that's quite alright. No need to… whatever you're thinking of doing." Shirou could see Berserker was just barely restraining herself from violence as it was, no need to introduce some kind of magically-summoned beast into the mix as well.

"If you're sure," Rider said with a smile.

There was a pause.

The door slammed open.

"Ugh. Finally!" Tohsaka grumbled, stomping into the room. "God, I can't believe you're such a half-assed magus you can't even fix your own house, Emiya. Making me do all the work in fixing it up like that, what kind of host are you?"

"The kind with tea?" Shirou suggested, gesturing towards the table. "Also, the kind that can't actually do advanced magic like that. Also, the kind whose guest's servant destroyed his house."

"In fairness, that was mostly Berserker, though I conceded the point," said Rider.

"Not helping, Caster." Rin grabbed a teacup off the table and began drinking from it.

"Ha!" said Berserker. "I knew there was no way you'd follow me into the house from a wide-open space like the courtyard, if you were a Rider. Busted, pal!" She seemed to realise something. "Also, hey, screw you! You totally started it, you jerk."

The newly-revealed Caster shrugged. "My apologies for the deception. Although I had hoped to get more mileage out of it," he added, glancing at Tohsaka.

"Shut up."

"Ahem!" said Shirou. The pair stopped arguing. "I am also a _very confused_ type of host. Tohsaka, you said you'd explain everything."

"Actually, I said I'd explain the very basics," Tohsaka countered smoothly. "Explaining _everything_ is the job of the man we're going to see just now, but there's no point in leaving you utterly in the dark while we go there. This is important information for your survival, after all."

Shirou gulped. "I'm listening."

"Okay… okay. Um, the short version is, you've just now been drafted into a war between magi, for which the prize for winning is one wish. The war, the Holy Grail War, is officially fought between seven sides – seven magi, called Masters. Well, there is also a tradition of alliances, and brief team-ups, but ultimately the prize goes to one party only. This is the fifth such war."

"A… war, you say." There was a lot Shirou wanted to ask, especially about this 'wish' that was the prize for winning, but the one that he actually ended up asking was, "So how long has this war been going on?"

"Hm, well, the Holy Grail Wars have been going on for about two hundred years, and-"

"No, no," Shirou said, ignoring the glare Tohsaka sent him for daring to interrupt, "I mean just this fifth war. Why haven't I seen anything of it before now? Armies marching through Fuyuki, massive spells being thrown around, all of that? I mean, wars aren't exactly the quietest of things."

"Oh, right. Well, even you must be familiar with the tradition of secrecy among magi, right? Same thing applies here, and there's a moderator assigned to the War by the church in order to make sure it doesn't get too out of hand. But to answer your question as it applies specifically to this War, there's two things you have to bear in mind. First, it hasn't officially started yet."

"...sure felt like it to me."

"Hey, getting rid of the competition before they become a threat is a perfectly viable strategy, you know! And I said I was sorry- right, anyway. You're the fifth magus to actually enter, I think. And the other reason why the War can be kept secret is that, as of tonight, you've already got all the tools anyone needs to win. No need to gather armies; the Holy Grail Wars are fought with something far deadlier."

Berserker smiled cheerfully and waved at Shirou.

"You're a Master, Shirou. But not in the sense that you've mastered magic." Tohsaka snorted, apparently unable to contain her amusement at the idea of Shirou being a competent mage. "No, you're a Master because you've summoned a Servant. A hero from across space and time, now willing to fight for you and help you obtain your wish."

Shirou blinked. "A… hero, you say..."

"You got it. Some are more famous than others, some are more powerful than others, but all have managed to transcend humanity and ascend to legend. I don't know who your Servant is, but she's done things you've never even imagined, and has the kind of strength that inspires awe and wonder. If she didn't, she wouldn't be available for summoning in the first place."

Shirou looked at the girl in blue, who'd said she'd liked his tea. She was looking slightly embarrassed at this point, but she shrugged in agreement.

"Right. Okay, Servants are classified into one of seven classes, depending on their capabilities. There's one of each in every War. Barring cheating and suchlike, at least, which has happened before… anyway, seven Servants. Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, Berserker. The clue's in the name as to each class's speciality – how's your English, Emiya?"

Shirou tried his best to recall. "Saber uses a sword. Archer uses a bow, Lancer a spear. Rider would be some kind of knight on horseback, maybe. Caster uses magic. Assassin uses… I guess underhanded and cheaty techniques? And then Berserker-" he looked over at his own Servant, "um, gets really enthusiastic about things?"

"Hah. That's one way of putting it," chuckled Caster. Berserker shrugged, but smiled at Shirou.

Tohsaka put her hand to her forehead. "Yeah, Berserker is traditionally the most difficult class to control, so heads up on that. Anyway, besides being an indispensable asset as far as fighting goes, the Servant is how you get to actually claim your prize. The Holy Grail War's not called that for nothing. The wish-granting artefact that we're all fighting for is called the Holy Grail – and before you ask, it's not the one from the Arthurian canon."

Shirou hadn't been about to ask, but dutifully nodded anyway.

"It's a spiritual item, which collects power from the defeated Servants and uses them to power a wish. Can you touch spiritual items, Shirou?"

"No," Shirou said.

"Right. Your Servant claims it, and then both you and she are granted a wish – which is why the Servants bother to respond to the summons in the first place." Tohsaka tapped her finger on her cheek in thought. "Right. Caster, did I miss anything?"

"I think that covers the basics well enough. The moderator can fill him in on the rest." Caster stood up. Shirou had forgotten how tall he was while he was sitting down, but her really was quite intimidating… although apparently the little girl sitting on his left was more than a match for him. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it himself.

Tohsaka got up too. "Right. Okay, Emiya, Caster and I are stepping outside for a bit. Come join us when you're ready to go, and we'll take you to see the moderator. You need to officially register your entry into the War, state your Servant's class, and ask about anything you need clarified. For now, put some shoes and a coat on, think about anything you want to ask, and get acquainted with your Servant while you're at it. Come on, Caster." She walked out of the room, followed by her Servant.

Once they were gone, Berserker visibly relaxed. "Wow, thats better. Man, I'm not sure I like being a Berserker. Any time there's an enemy around, there's this little voice in my head telling me I should be letting loose and attacking them right now. Like, I literally cannot calm down while there's still someone to fight, you know? Oh, right – thanks for snapping me out of Mad Enhancement earlier. I was probably a bit too far gone to come back unless the fight stopped by itself."

"No problem," Shirou said automatically. He wasn't sure what he'd done, it was just his standard response when being thanked for something. "Um, so, now that Tohsaka and Caster have gone, maybe we can properly introduce ourselves? I'm Emiya Shirou, and it looks like I'll be your Master for this war. Please take care of me."

The girl smiled at him. She was kind of cute when her face wasn't distorted with rage, Shirou thought briefly. Then he crushed that idea with all his might. This was no time to be getting excited.

"Hi there, Master. I'm Miki Sayaka, Servant Berserker. Call me Sayaka, I don't really mind. Let's work hard together!" Sayaka grabbed his hand and shook it up and down. Shirou was surprised by how strong her grip was – then he remembered her kick blasting the fully-armoured Caster halfway across the courtyard, and stopped being surprised.

"Sayaka, huh? Well. It's nice to meet you, Sayaka."

* * *

Bazett sat back onto the floor of the hotel room, breathing heavily. It had taken pretty much all the prana she'd managed to regain since last night, but she'd done the impossible and summoned a Servant twice in one Grail War. She looked up at the man – boy, actually, he looked no older than about seventeen – who had appeared in the summoning circle.

He was dressed in a brown and white uniform, with a short green hooded cloak over it. He was white, with green eyes and brown hair, and Bazett had initially thought she'd summoned her ancestor on the second try – but the clearly high-tech gear slung about his waist said otherwise. Oh, well. It was a bit disappointing – actually, very disappointing – but as long as she had a Servant to keep her safe from Archer, Bazett was fine with literally anyone.

"I am Bazett Fraga McRemitz, former Master of Archer in this War, and now your Master. Who are you?"

The boy snapped to attention, placing one hand behind his back and one on his heart in what was clearly some kind of salute.

"Eren Jaeger, of the Survey Corps, reporting for duty as Servant Rider, ma'am!"


	7. Chapter 7 - Rittai Kidou

"I see," Rider said, a frown on his face. "So we can't trust the moderator, huh? That'll make things tricky. He's got complete control over the War, and could pretty easily talk us up as a rule-breaking boogeyman for the rest of the participants." He spoke in Irish Gaelic, the language dropped into his mind by the Grail. Bazett didn't think she was being spied on, but she'd not encountered either Caster or Assassin, and wasn't taking any chances with what they might do.

Bazett had spent the last several minutes bringing her new Servant up to speed on the series of events that had led to his summoning. With Rider around to act as a deterrent, she was much less worried about a potential attack by Archer, and had felt justified in taking a few minutes to let her Servant know about how the War might be slightly different to the standard.

"It's worse than that," she reminded him. "I don't mind admitting, Kirei's at least as dangerous as I am – barring something completely unexpected happening, he's probably the most problematic Master in the War. In a fair fight, I'd probably be able to take him even without my own Noble Phantasm, but, ah, if he was interested in fighting fair he wouldn't have stolen my Servant to mess around with the War in the first place."

Rider fingered the hilt of one of his swords thoughtfully. "No match for a Servant, though, right?"

"Well, that's a given," Bazett said. "But bear in mind, he's got Archer to use as he wishes. He's been around the block enough times that he can work out how to make best use of a near-perfect sniper to counter the rest of the Servants he encounters. Which, thanks to his position as moderator, is all of them." She sighed.

Rider put a hand to his chin in thought. "Hm. Tricky. Always difficult to fight someone who's cheating."

"Yeah. Underhanded bastard," Bazett spat.

Rider looked surprised. "Oh, ah, I'm not saying I'm against cheating. We should cheat as much as possible. I've been in too many battles not to take every single advantage I can possibly get, especially when some participants are way more powerful than you. No, I totally understand this Kirei guy's desire for foul play. I'm just annoyed we didn't get a chance to cheat first."

"Yeah, well, I'm with you on that. Still, though. You'd think he'd take it seriously."

A shrug. "Nothing we can do about it, we just have to fight back as hard as possible." Rider paused, and looked at Bazett. "You _do _want to take revenge, yeah?"

"Oh, fuck yeah. No way that bastard's gonna get away with screwing me over, and fucking with the War to boot. Just, we have to be careful about how we do it. We can't just rush in guns blazing."

"Hm. Can't we, though?"

Bazett stared. "What."

"Look, as far as I can tell, your being alive? And having summoned a second Servant? Something went _seriously_ weird, something no-one could have expected. Even _if_ Archer senses a Servant coming, she won't think it'll be her previous Master come for revenge – because that's impossible, right? As long as you stay out of sight, as far as this priest is concerned we're just another new Master/Servant pair come to register."

Bazett got his point. "So we get close..."

"And then charge in the front door and kick the crap out of him. He'll never expect it," Rider grinned. It wasn't a cheerful grin. More _feral_.

Bazett looked at her Servant. While he'd come out of his stiff salute as soon as she'd asked him to, he was if anything even more tense now, his body almost trembling with anticipation at the thought of action. His fingers caressed the hilts of his blades restlessly. She cleared her throat and said, "Are you sure _you're_ fine with this? We'd be attacking a man, a priest no less, in his own home with intent to kill. Are you fine with that as a hero?"

Rider shrugged. "Sure, why not? Besides, I have a wish, remember? If I win the War, I'll use the Holy Grail to kill every single Titan on my world. This priest thinks he's going to get in the way of that? _I'll rip him apart." _His eyes flashed.

A shiver went down Bazett's spine at the words, but she nodded. "Good enough for me. Come on then, let me get prepared and we'll go. Watch the windows in case Archer does decide to attack."

"Got it." The young man glanced at the city visible through the window. He muttered, "No walls, huh… guess this is what's possible when humanity doesn't have to live in fear..."

Bazett stepped out of her pyjamas, and put on her underwear and spare suit. Her original was missing a sleeve, after all. This one, identical in style, hadn't had quite as many runes and spells on it, but it should be more than enough. She focused, and reinforced it, activating the runes that would make it stronger than full plate armour and as easy to move in as gym kit. She finished with her gloves – spells for magnifying momentum, extra armour over the knuckles, a handy little trick that reflected all the incoming force on the hand back into the target. She punched one fist into her palm, and smiled at the shockwave.

Finished, she looked at Rider, who quickly glanced away with a blush on his face. What was-? Oh. He looked like a teenager, and she'd just undressed without a second thought. Well, he'd not made a fuss of it, and he was a soldier – probably best to just assume he'd be professional about it. Bazett, for her part, had long since stopped worrying about that sort of thing while she was in a warzone.

"Are we still clear, Rider?" she asked.

Rider cocked his head, then shook it. "No Servants nearby that I can sense."

"Good. To the church we go, then. Stay close – be ready to defend me from sniper fire."

Her Servant nodded and dissolved into greenish motes of light.

Bazett left her hotel, and strolled casually in the direction of the church. She made sure to keep close to the edges of buildings, or within thick crowds, and changed directions frequently. It was somewhat annoying to keep doubling back or detouring, but much less annoying than being shot in the head, so whatever. She could feel Rider at her back, an ominous spiritual presence that the evening crowds instinctively avoided. To Bazett's much more finely-tuned senses it was beyond unnerving, like knowing there was a savage animal _right behind you _and not being allowed to react.

Obviously she trusted Rider – yeah, and would be trusting him with her life in a few minutes – but the fact remained that Servants were pretty much _the_ most powerful class of entity most magi would ever encounter. The tactical part of Bazett was very much aware that Rider could slaughter every single person on the street in about five seconds, and that was assuming she herself could last for three. It had an effect.

Not that she was complaining. She'd need every bit of that power and more if she was going to come out of this alive. Even now – even with her Servant right next to her – Archer could be lining up a killing shot.

Her thoughts stuck on such grim topics, Bazett continued down the busy streets, on her roundabout way to kill a man.

* * *

Mami had noticed her former Master almost the moment she'd stepped outside, obviously. Admittedly, she'd gotten lucky and had been looking in the right direction at the time, but even so there was no way she wouldn't have spotted her by now. Red hair sort of stood out in Japan.

Even when you were looking from on top of a skyscraper. Mami had always liked high places, even before she'd received the weapons that made them tactically convenient, or indeed the power of the Archer class that allowed her to see every single person in her line of sight unnaturally clearly. She liked looking out over crowds, watching people go about their day, and looking out over the horizon. In Mitakihara, there were just more and more people as far as the eye could see, and Mami always loved it when she spotted other people looking out at the world, the same as she was.

She was somewhat less enthused about seeing her former Master, and even less so to see the boy following her around. From this range, she couldn't sense whether or not he was a Servant, but, well. It was sort of obvious, at least to her. His clothing would have raised flags immediately – no-one wore cloaks any more – but the odd gear and sword hilts just visible around his waist, combined with the fact that he was following a known magus, clinched it. Mami had no idea which class he might be, though Saber, Rider, Berserker and Assassin were all possibilities. Admittedly, it would be an odd Assassin to just display himself in the open like that, but there could be any number of reasons for it.

To Mami's shame, a small part of her considered just taking out the woman – Kirei had mentioned her name, but damned it she could remember it – with a bullet to the head and just getting it over with. It wouldn't even be difficult. Mami had hit far smaller targets moving far faster, with much less time to prepare. Given that she was firing from most of a mile away, and also invisible, it wouldn't even risk exposing the secret of magic, although the investigation and massively increased police presence that was sure to follow might make things awkward as far as actually conducting the War in secret was concerned.

But no. No, that wasn't who Mami was. Well, okay, using underhanded tactics like sniping and attacking the Master was _absolutely_ who Mami was, she'd long since abandoned any concepts of fair play in her battles against the Wraiths. She'd certainly have had a much harder time against Berserker if she'd focused on actually fighting him, like a chump. But, well. She sort of felt sorry for her former Master. The Irish woman had had no chance at all from the beginning, from what Mami had gathered, and if she'd somehow managed to claw her way back to having a fighting chance, well, Mami could respect that.

_One chance_, she thought. _You get one free chance, as thanks for bringing me into this War. You waste it, that's your own bad luck. Tomorrow, any shot I see, I'm taking._

...which left the question of what she was going to do instead. In the interests of fair play, she shifted position and began searching the other side of the city, keeping an eye out for anything that could mean the presence of a Servant. The entrance to the Einzbern forest, for example, she kept a careful watch on. In fact, if she focused, wasn't that-

"_Careless, Archer. If I, __merely __watching through your eyes, noticed the presence of an apparently restored Bazett Fraga McRemitz, you yourself cannot possibly have failed to do so."_

Oh, fiddlesticks.

"_Of course not, Master," _Mami replied, through the mental equivalent of gritted teeth.

"_Then why have you not eliminated her? It should be easy, even for you. You are not an Archer for nothing." _Kirei's mental voice was calm. He didn't seem particularly angry that Mami had let one of his enemies escape. He sounded like he was honestly asking after her reasons.

...and if he was any other Master, Mami would have been happy to explain. Kirei, though, just rubbed her the wrong way, with his callous disregard for life and his frankly sadistic disregard for her own feelings. So, well, he could go jump in a lake as far as she was concerned.

On the other hand, she did need some kind of excuse. She could simply refuse to attack, as she had before, but she got the sense that if she pushed her luck on the same issue twice she'd find herself Commanded to attack regardless. Also, before she'd framed it as not hunting down a dying woman just to finish her off. Bazett was fine now, though: arm restored, seemingly no worse for wear – heck, even her suit was unharmed, not a thread out of place! Mami was genuinely curious about how her former Master had managed it… but now was not the time.

Kirei hadn't mentioned the Servant… perhaps because he had focused on Bazett? Although the spell he was using allowed him to see through Mami's eyes, Kirei himself was free to choose what to focus on within her field of vision. This both made it much less disorienting for the magus and allowed them to pick up on things the Servant might potentially miss. A common example was analyzing an enemy Servant's appearance and equipment while the Servant whose senses were being piggybacked concentrated on actually fighting.

So it was entirely possible that Kirei had simply noticed Bazett's survival, and not pegged the cloaked figure behind her as anything out of the ordinary. Mami went ahead with her bluff.

"_I was under the impression I was not to involve parties outside the War, Master. You've already taken her Command Seals – this Bazett is no longer a Master, and no longer a target of mine."_

There was a pause, as if Kirei hadn't considered that. "_Hm. You are technically correct. __Nevertheless, she remains a potential obstacle to my plans, and one I'd prefer removed."_

Mami glanced back to where she'd spotted Bazett, hoping she'd been out of sight long enough. She had been, and her mental voice was cheerful as she replied. "_Oh dear, it looks like I've lost the opportunity, I don't have a clear shot any more. Whoops! Careless of me, like you said. Now, I could hunt this random, harmless, uninvolved woman down for you, or I could expend my valuable time and energy into actually doing the job you set me, and try to find another Servant. It is, obviously, you__r__ choice, Master."_

There was the mental equivalent of a deep and weary sigh. "_Very well, Archer. You may continue your search for enemy Servants. I would say you were the most recalcitrant Servant I had ever met, but the King of Heroes reigns supreme in that aspect as well." _Mami took a quick look around, and found Gilgamesh almost immediately. He tended to make himself obvious. At the moment he was loitering around one of the old mansions in the suburbs, for no particular reason Mami could see.

"_Well, maybe you should stop summoning Archers. The Independent Action skill isn't for show, you know," _she said. That might have been a little _too_ cheeky, she thought at once, but Kirei seemed more amused than anything.

"_Need I remind you I am the Moderator of the War? Summoning a Servant, Archer or otherwise, would be quite against the rules."_

Mami snorted, and cut the mental connection – as much as she could from this end. It wasn't like hanging up a phone call, more like turning your back on someone you were speaking with. Kirei could still see through her eyes and speak to her, but he'd know she didn't want to talk.

Pretty satisfied that she'd got one up on her irritating Master, Mami jumped off the skyscraper on the opposite side to where she'd seen Bazett, attaching a pair of ribbons to the edge and holding on while running straight down the wall. About halfway down she let go of one and swung herself onto the next rooftop, heading towards the river. She was interested to see what the top of the bridge was like.

* * *

"So yeah, in the end you just _have_ to divorce the music from the composer. Was Wagner a racist dickweasel? Absolutely! Does that make his music any less inspiring? No. It's totally fine to condemn him for his beliefs and actions, and praise him for his art – because art itself is meant to stand apart from the artist. It has to, if you're going to try to appraise it without your perceptions being coloured by your own opinion of its creator. Art's subjective, of course, and obviously context is a big deal, but it should ultimately be judged on its own merits… hey, Shirou, are you still listening?"

Shirou had not expected the Servant of Madness to be a classical music buff. Part of him was sure that the strangest thing about the situation was that _that_ was, well, what he found strangest about the situation. There was quite a lot to pick from.

The four of them – Shirou, Berserker, Tohsaka, and Caster – walked through the streets of Fuyuki together. Or rather, sort of together. Tohsaka led the way, as the one sure of where they were going. She'd refused to answer any of Shirou's questions about… _anything_, and was simply stomping forward at a furious pace.

Shirou and Berserker followed, side by side. At first, the teenaged Servant had been on edge, but as time passed she loosened up. She'd been more than happy to chat to Shirou when he'd asked some basic questions about herself, but her enthusiasm for music had come as something of a shock.

"Uh, yeah, I am listening. Sorry, Berserker."

"Sa-ya-ka. It ain't exactly a difficult name!" Berser- Sayaka frowned at him, and Shirou recoiled. Even small expressions of anger seemed to be magnified on the Servant, so he guessed this had meant to come out as an adorable pout. It looked like she'd just heard him make an off-colour joke instead. He remembered what it had been like when she'd been _really_ angry, and had no wish to see it again.

A voice from behind them interrupted his thoughts. "I'm certainly interested, Miss Sayaka," put in Caster. The enormous foreigner had quite naturally taken up the position in the rear of the group. Sayaka hadn't been happy about having to expose their backs to one of the greatest spellcasters in history, but he'd pointed out that his own Master was exposing _hers_ to one of the most unstable warriors in history. Put like that, it seemed fair enough to Shirou, so he'd asked Sayaka to drop the issue. She'd listened, but hadn't liked it.

"_You_ can keep right on calling me Berserker, you twisty bastard," Sayaka snarled. "I haven't forgotten that scam you tried to pull with pretending to be Rider. And what would you know about music, anyway?"

There was a rumbling chuckle. "I'm a fully trained bard, I'll have you know!" He took a breath, and then sang, "_There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from old Rorikstead…_ hm. It loses something in the translation, I'll admit."

"...okay, you've got a good voice, not gonna lie," said Sayaka grudgingly.

From ahead, Shirou heard Tohsaka call out, sounding exasperated, "A great singer as well? Sure! Why the hell not! What are you _not_ absurdly talented at?"

Caster thought. "Spears. I never did learn to use a spear." He trailed off. "...I think that's it."

There was a pause. "That's it?" asked Sayaka sceptically.

"Look, you live long enough, you pick up a few things."

"Like what?" Shirou asked.

Tohsaka put a hand to her face. "Don't get him started..."

"Oh-ho, trying to gather information on your enemies already, is it, boy? Smart move," said Caster. He didn't seem offended, though. "Well, let me see, most any close combat weapon, spears excepted. I've practised throughout all my life, and now there's no real advantage in my using any one over the other, all else being equal. Magic, of course – and I don't mean that I've specialised in one craft to the exclusion of all others. Nor have I-"

"_Oh look we're here and my Servant can stop revealing all his capabilities," _said Tohsaka all at once.

Shirou looked around. The group was just at the start of a long driveway, leading through some trees. New Town wasn't a part of Fuyuki he'd ever really had much reason to go to, but he had a vague idea of what was here. Given that Tohsaka was taking them through what looked like a graveyard…

"Hey, are we going to the church?" he asked.

Tohsaka gave him a scornful look. "Duh. I told you the Church sent a moderator, didn't I?"

"Did you?" Shirou tried to remember. "I had a lot on my mind, to be fair."

"Ugh. Just come with me. Caster, you stay outside, obviously. Berserker, you'll need to stay outside the actual church grounds too."

Sayaka bristled. "You don't tell me what to do, Miss Perfect. If Shirou wants me with him in there, that's where I'm gonna be."

"It's traditional," Tohsaka sighed. "Just… control your Servant, will you, Emiya?" She folded her arms and looked pointedly at Shirou.

Feeling slightly guilty, Shirou said, "It's fine, Sayaka. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

This was, of course, the moment the front doors of the church exploded.

* * *

Bazett flew backwards through the doors of the church, launched backwards by Kirei's lunging strike. _Well, this hasn't gone well_, she thought to herself.

Somehow – _some-fucking-how_ – Kirei had known they were coming in advance, and had set up a couple of nasty surprises. Bazett hadn't considered it before, but there was a _reason_ people went to sanctuary in churches. Traditionally, they were safe havens against the supernatural. Kirei had clearly had this idea in mind when setting up the defenses around his home.

Kirei landed on his feet, but Bazett had to roll to regain hers. Almost as soon as the priest had come to a stop, he lurched backwards into the shadows of the church – and not a moment too soon. Twin straight swords passed inches from his chest, and Rider pressed the assault with a flurry of attacks. Bazett was pretty damn fast, but even she could barely see the strikes her Servant made. Kirei fell back into the church, and Rider clicked his teeth and leapt. Within a second he was on the roof, probing for a way in.

There were two bounded fields, built into the very stones of the church itself, and Bazett couldn't decide which was more annoying. The first was a pretty standard warding against spirits – quite appropriate for a church, but Kirei had apparently massively overcharged the spell so that it could keep out even Servants. Bazett didn't have a clue where he was drawing that kind of prana, and didn't care – it wouldn't matter if she could get in there and deal with him herself.

"You bastard, Kirei, you were ready for us! How the hell did you know we were coming?" Bazett gritted out.

"Have you already forgotten that I am the Master of an Archer class Servant, Bazett?" came Kirei's taunting voice from inside the church. "I am quite certain you were there when I acquired her."

Unfortunately, the second bounded field made dealing with Kirei more tricky. Quite simply, it eroded any spell not specifically okayed by the caster of the bounded field. This meant that Bazett was fighting with no Reinforcement.

Fortunately, her repertoire wasn't that small.

"You know, you were never as funny as you thought you were," growled Bazett. A thought had prana running through the runes on her suit and gloves again. Shaking herself off, Bazett launched herself back into the church. She caught Kirei just as he was drawing some more of those Black Keys he favoured out from under his coat. Unlike the last time he'd used those on her, though, she was ready.

Chanelling more prana into her glove runes, Bazett punched the swords. Prana hardened into the shape of sharp metal met fists enhanced to hit like sledgehammers. The swords shattered, and Bazett followed up with a boxing four, forcing Kirei to slide back in between the pews to evade her.

A second later he realised his mistake and leapt into the air to avoid the hail of splinters that used to be a pew before Bazett had kicked it straight into his _stupid face_. His arms crossed to protect his face, and as he landed they uncrossed. Six more Black Keys flew at Bazett. They were no harder to shatter than the last, but it gave Kirei time to draw _even goddamn more_ of the swords from wherever the hell he was keeping them before closing in to fight Bazett.

Perhaps 'closing in' wasn't quite the right word. Black Keys weren't long, maybe two and a half feet, so they were mainly used as throwing weapons. But that little extra length, added to Kirei's natural height and reach advantage, meant Bazett had to weave her way past Kirei's guard if she wanted to hit him with her fists.

Or it would have, if she hadn't specifically enhanced this suit to resist holy weapons. Despite how she seemed to getting outplayed at every turn, Bazett wasn't dumb. Fortunately, Irish runecraft in particular had developed a lot of spells specifically for fighting back against the weapons and mysteries of the Church. They hadn't done them a lot of good, in the end, but nevertheless Bazett had managed to plug the gap in her defences.

So she rushed forwards and struck again and again, trusting her suit to take the impacts of the Black Keys. One slashed her forehead, and blood dripped in her eye, but she ignored it and kept on pushing. When Kirei was reacting to a particularly vicious low kick, she reached out and grabbed at his wrists. She missed with her right, but her left hand closed around Kirei's arm like a vice. Bones creaked under her enhanced grip and she felt a surge of triumph, but that wasn't what she was after. Taking a half-step, she turned and threw Kirei out of the church window with a grunt of effort.

Kirei managed to twist in mid-air, so that he hit the window with his shoulder rather than his head. Coloured glass rained down around him, but he covered his face with his arms once again to avoid being cut. Overall, he seemed to emerged largely unharmed, after being wrenched ten feet through the air and through solid glass.

But Rider was waiting.

Even before Kirei had landed, the young Servant was swooping in from his perch, and a doubled slash knocked the priest down into the ground so hard he bounced. He was up on his feet in next to no time, but Rider was already behind him. The Servant's kick caught Kirei in the side, and he went flying away from the church. Even as he rolled and came up on one knee, Rider was already in the air.

Bazett hadn't been able to get her head around the strange equipment her Servant wore. Part of it was the modular segmented swords that made up his primary weapons, but most of it was mechanical, with the swords' oversized hilts hanging to the side of each thigh. Some kind of apparatus using spooled wire or cable hung from the small of the back. It was impressively technical, and Bazett couldn't imagine the kind of training necessary to use something like that in battle.

Rider made it work, though.

As soon as he'd landed his kick on Kirei, wires had fired out from the waist-mounted gear in response to a trigger on the swords, anchoring themselves to one of the trees surrounding the church. As Kirei tumbled, Rider was almost flying towards him, lifted into midair by the wires. Another trigger, and the wires retracted faster than Bazett could track, leaving Rider free to come down in a sword strike using his entire weight.

Kirei didn't even try to block that one, but lunged to one side. Once again, Rider reacted inhumanly fast, a different wire pulling him to one side to track his target. The priest just barely managed to block his flurry of strikes, but the kick had clearly taken its toll, and he was slowing. Back in the church, Bazett smiled grimly. Kirei was good, but even he was no match for a combat-focused Servant. The battle would be over in moments.

Then Bazett saw a wave of red energy come out of nowhere through Rider's eyes, and watched as her Servant backed off. She was so surprised she reacted too late to stop Kirei rushing back inside the church, out of Rider's reach. Cursing, she rejoined battle with her former friend, while keeping half an eye, through Rider, on the third party who had interrupted her revenge.

"Well, hello there," greeted a giant of a man in black mail. The red energy flickering around the edges of the double-handed longsword in his hands singled him out as the one who'd interrupted Rider's attempt on Kirei's life. "I'm informed that's the moderator you were trying to murder there. You are aware that's against the rules, are you not?"

Rider bristled. "You don't know a damn thing. You're being played and you don't even know it. If you're smart, you'll walk away now and let the Church give us a new overseer." He made no move to attack, but held his swords ready.

"Yeah, I'm thinking you're full of crap," a third voice snarled, and Bazett cursed again. What was clearly _another_ Servant stalked out from behind the first. This one looked like a young girl, even younger than Rider, but Bazett knew not to judge by appearances. Like the armoured man, this Servant held a sword, but hers was an ornate cutlass. Although her blue costume clearly aimed to invoke 'knightly' imagery, she didn't wear any armour. "Way I see it, there's only one reason to go after the guy that's meant to stop us interfering with the non-magical population, and that's _if you were already planning on interfering with the non-magical population_. Well, screw you. Some of us actually have a wish we want to fight for, and want this War to go ahead."

The giant nodded. "Well said, Berserker. I don't know who you are, Servant. From your admirable mobility on the battlefield, and your choice of weapon, I can guess that you are Servant Rider, but I am not certain, and your identity is a mystery to me thus far. However, I know that as a man who values honour above all, I cannot let your cowardly actions stand. I am Servant Saber! Your end comes now!"

Bazett gritted her teeth, even as she hurled a brass candlestick at Kirei's head. Somehow, two Servants had managed to establish an alliance or at least a working relationship this early in the War. And to make things worse, one of them was Saber, the most outstanding class of Servant. Well, she'd see about that.

"_Rider. Fight off Saber and Berserker as long as possible. I'll try to beat Kirei by myself, but __in case I can't__, there's something else I need you to do..."_ She explained her plan, and Rider nodded.

"_I'll see what I can do, Master. Be ready when it's time."_

"_How will I know it's time?"_

Rider gave a mental chuckle. "_Trust me, you'll know."_

Unfortunately, something must have shown on his face, because Berserker's expression darkened. "You think this is _funny_? Oh, yeah, a big joke, trying to kill a man! Ca- Saber, I hope you don't mind disappointment, because I'm going to be the one to cause the first Servant casualty in this War." She gripped her cutlass so hard her knuckles turned white, and some kind of blue glow formed under her feet.

Rider shot wires straight upward and lifted off, so fast that he looked to have simply vanished to human sight. Not a moment too soon. Berserker's blade blurred through where he'd been, so close Bazett felt the air rush past Rider's feet. The blue knight herself was already crouched for a leap, looking like some wild beast. Rider barely managed to turn himself aside in time for a parry as the Servant of Madness rocketed past him, making it to the church roof in a single bound. The blades clashed, and Bazett could feel how much force there was behind the blow. The pair landed on the roof at almost the same time, and paused for a moment, looking for an opening.

It came in the form of another wave of rending energy from Saber, who'd arrived on the roof in that bare moment after the other two had arrived. Rider leapt back, retreating along the roof towards the spire. Saber and Berserker faced him, on the side of the roof between him and the church doors.

Rider looked between the two of them; Saber standing tall, calm, and proud, Berserker almost quivering with only-barely-restrained killing intent. "Look, I'd really rather not fight you both. Uh, Saber, you said you were honourable, right? Is this how an honourable man would act? Fighting two on one? Attacking a man while his back's turned? Allying with the _most_ likely Servant to kill innocents?"

Saber shrugged. "So far, she's attacked zero non-combatants to your one, so she's ahead of you there, boy. And what good is honour when it holds me back from preventing wrongs done within my very sight? Now, stop stalling, Rider. Will you fight us seriously?"

Bazett back-pedalled, retreating from Kirei's increasingly desperate flurry of strikes with the Black Keys. He was just slow enough now, after Rider had landed a solid hit, that she could both keep up with him and keep an eye on the conversation. On the other hand, she wasn't sure about her chances of beating him in a fight, even now. He was just too experienced, and too wily.

"_Rider. I'll need your help after all. __Wait until they're inside, then __drop the building on them__."_

Rider shifted his grip on his swords. "Oh, okay. I was just buying time for my Master to try and kill that bastard priest, is all. She's down there, you see, and quite formidable. I busted him up pretty bad – want to take bets on how long he'll last? Ten seconds? Twenty seconds more?" he cocked his head. "You want to see if he can survive a full minute?"

Berserker snarled and started forward, but Saber only laughed. "Oh, no doubt. But, Rider. Did you think you were the only one who brought his Master along tonight?" He advanced along the roof with Berserker.

_Okay,_ Bazett thought. _This is where it gets tricky._

* * *

Rin was not a fan of Kotomine Kirei. Legally he was her guardian, but part of the reason why she kept up the honour-student act was so that she didn't have to see him any more than she had to. She had enough of his self-righteous lectures on magecraft without adding him nagging her about schoolwork as well. No, for the most part she did her own thing and only got in touch with Kirei when absolutely necessary.

Her plan for tonight had been similar. Take Emiya to the church, chuck him in the front doors, and then go on her merry way and figure out how to blow his house up with the Servant inside or something. But _of course_ Kirei had to ruin that like he ruined everything. Now Rin had to actually – ugh – _support_ the annoying fake priest. She didn't like the idea, not one bit, but there were rules to be followed. No way was she letting the path to the Root slip out of her grasp because of some rogue Magus who decided she was above following the rules of the Heavens Feel ritual.

So she ran inside the church to save Kirei, while what sounded like a metal hurricane raged on the roof. But she didn't have to like it.

She only realised Emiya had followed her inside when she heard him shout, "Hey! Stop fighting!"

Amazingly, the two figures clashing in front of the altar did, if only so they could stare at this new and special breed of idiot. In the sudden quiet, dust fell from the ceiling as the entire building shook from the titanic forces being unleashed on the roof.

Well, Rin wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. She stood straight, hands inside her coat pockets, and called, "Hey, fake priest. You getting slow in your old age? How come this punk was able to get the drop on you?"

"Your ever-present concern for me is as touching as always, Rin," said Kirem dryly. "Needless to say, I formally request aid as the moderator from the Tohsaka family in removing this obstacle to the Heavens Feel ritual."

"Yeah, granted, whatever," Rin said. Beside her, Emiya looked between her and Kirei, obviously confused about what was going on. Shit, if Kirei died would she have to fill him in on War herself? Man, what a pain.

The other magus – foreign, going by the red hair, although Rin couldn't make out her features under the head wound she had going on – spluttered. "Obstacle- listen kid! This bastard's the Master of Archer, that's why I'm-"

"Oh, save it," Rin interrupted, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "If you were going to make up an excuse, at least make it a bit more believable. I know you might not be as familiar with how this all works as one of the founding families, so let me explain. He's _the moderator_. He's not _allowed_ to be a Master. Hell, he has the position in the first place because he's an impartial observer. His only wish, apart from causing me trouble, is to see the War conducted safely and properly."

"Tohsaka," began Emiya from beside her, "I'm _really _confused and this all seems _really_ important, so please. In ten words or less, what the hell is going on?"

Rin brought a fist to her mouth in thought. "Hmm. Ten words or less? He's the moderator, she's cheating, we're saving that fake priest."

Emiya nodded. "Good enough for me." He picked up a splinter of wood that used to be a pew. "Trace on." Holding it in front of him like a sword, the boy faced the red-haired Magus. Reinforcement? Jeez, he really was third-rate. "I'm ready." He ran in, raising it for a strike.

Shaking her head in frustration, the enemy Magus raised her fists. "You're nowhere near, kid." As soon as Emiya reached her, one fist lashed out to strike his impromptu sword, and the other flashed towards his stomach.

Emiya was clearly a poor magus, but Rin had definitely felt the reinforcement spell take hold. The splinter of wood should now be about as tough as a steel bar, while still retaining the original weight. So she was quite surprised when it shattered halfway up the length when it met the oncoming fist.

Given that, though, she was less surprised when Emiya doubled over coughing from the lightning-fast jab.

"Just stay down, kid, my problem's not with-" That was as far as the other magus got before the sapphire Rin had thrown while she was distracted by Emiya exploded at her feet. She was thrown aside as the equivalent of an A-rank attack went off at point-blank range.

"Well, that's that, I guess. Cheers for the assist, Emiya, I- ack!" Rin cut herself off as a Black Key flew inches past her face, throwing the red-haired magus off balance and causing her to break off her attack to block it. Rin dropped into a rough martial arts stance. How the hell had the magus survived that? She hadn't activated any kind of spell, she was sure!

Kirei stepped up beside her. "Tut tut, Rin. I was sure I taught you better than that. If Bazett could be so easily disposed of, I would not be having so much trouble with her in the first place."

Not ten feet away, the magus – Bazett, apparently – brushed herself off. "I'm telling you, kid, you're on the wrong side of the fight. This bastard's been playing you from the start. He's the Master of Archer, and he's going to use his position as moderator to manipulate the War from behind the scenes." The words came out in a rush, as though she was worried about interrupted again.

Rin raised an eyebrow. "To what end?"

The magus bit her lip, and looked down. "I… don't know."

"Uh-huh." There was a brief pause. Rin looked sidelong at Kirei, who was as unreadable as ever. He wasn't _denying _it… but then it would be just like him not to, and hold it over her head that she hadn't trusted him. Again. And, well, again, he was the moderator. Rin didn't know how the church did things – it was very definitely and very _deliberately_ outside her area of expertise – but they wouldn't just assign anyone to the position. Pretty much the only thing Rin had _ever_ seen her guardian take seriously was his preparations for the War.

No. He'd been a student of her father's once, just like she had, and if Tohsaka Tokiomi had impressed one thing on Rin, it was the importance of the Heaven's Feel ritual. This Bazett, whoever she was, was just trying to drive a wedge between her two strongest opponents.

"You might not know this," Rin began, walking slowly round to flank Bazett, "but Kirei is my guardian. I know him probably better than any Master in this War." She kept her eyes on Bazett. She was looking from Rin to Kirei, and keeping her hands up in a rough boxing stance. Her suit seemed to glow along the seams – were those _runes_? How provincial. Runecraft was basically useless as far as reaching the Root went, being as it was a black box of sorts, but Rin supposed it was effective for the material effects. It certainly explained how she was able to enhance herself without using reinforcement.

"I hope you are not implying I would be anything less than perfectly impartial," Kirei interrupted, a serene look on his face. He mirrored Rin's movements, heading to Bazett's other side. His tone was light. His footsteps were light. But his eyes, and the fact that his hands stayed where he could use them easily, told Rin that he was paying at least as much attention to Bazett as she was.

Ten feet was _nothing_ in a fight between mages. Rin herself could reinforce her legs to run a hundred metres in about eight seconds – and she knew she was nowhere near as good as Kirei was at that sort of thing. By the looks of her Bazett had her beat as well. Maybe she was an Enforcer or something? Anyway, ten feet sounded like a lot, but the three of them may as well have been squaring up in a phone booth. Worse, squaring up in a phone booth and trying not to give away any openings. Each of them was entirely focused on the other two. The slightest slip could be the beginning of an opening that would lead to someone dying. Even when lightning struck just outside the church, the three kept their focus, not showing any weakness.

Which is why it took Rin somewhat by surprise when the roof fell in.

* * *

Shirou staggered to his feet and ignored the throbbing ache in his ribs. The magus had hit him harder than he'd ever been hit before, even in the accident at work that had given him the scar on his shoulder. But there was no time to worry about that, because there was rubble falling down all around the four people in the church, and Shirou still didn't really get all the details about what was going on but he knew that Tohsaka getting squished by a rock wasn't going to help him get any answers _ever_. So he rushed forwards, and pulled her out of the way, ignoring her startled protests. When they were clear, Shirou turned around and looked at the rubble.

Kotomine church was no longer an enclosed space.

A massive arm had punched through the wall and part of the ceiling. It was – Shirou didn't have the words to describe it. _Huge_, obviously, but it wasn't huge like an American Football player was huge, or even like an elephant was huge. It was as if the church was just some doll house and an adult man had reached inside.

When Shirou followed the arm up to its owner, he wished he hadn't. At first he thought it was pitch black outside, the arm extending from the darkness. Then a flash of blue hit it on the side, and it moved. The arm pulled back, and a giant straightened up. Shirou had been mentally labelling Caster as a giant – he was certainly the tallest person Shirou had ever met, and muscled with it. The blond Servant had seemed larger than life. Shirou couldn't have imagined looking at him and thinking, 'small'.

_This_ giant, the giant outside Kotomine church was fifteen metres high. Naked, and muscled like a boxer, it didn't move ponderously like every depiction of a giant Shirou had seen. No, it moved like an above-averagely nimble human. When Sayaka came in for another pass, so fast she was a streak of blue against the night sky, it simply shifted its head as if slipping a punch. Spinning on the spot, it delivered an elbow strike behind itself, and Sayaka ploughed a furrow in the dirt as she was knocked out of the sky. The giants eyes flashed green, and such a madness Shirou had never seen in his life, not even on his own Servant.

Sayaka couldn't stay down long. With a shriek of fury, she erupted from the ground – and not a moment too soon. The giant's foot slammed down with enough force to make the building shake. While the other Servant was distracted, the giant turned its attention back towards the church. A hammerfist strike knocked the spire clear off the roof, and it fell to earth with an ear-splitting crash.

"Come on, time to go!" Pulling Tohsaka by the arm, Shirou sprinted for the doorway. All around him, beams crashed into already-broken pews, and bricks fell like rain. The noise was deafening, even drowning out the monster's roars. Shirou ignored it all, and simply pelted forward as fast as he could.

Beside Shirou, Tohsaka spluttered. "That's… Rider?"

He raised an eyebrow. "It is? What, did he have a growth spurt in the last ten seconds? Oh, no, wait, I've got it, we must have missed his minute-long transformation sequence. Should we be looking out for a mecha of some kind or-"

_Wham. _Stars flashed in front of his eyes as he was hit by a fist that felt hard as teak.

"_Take this seriously!_" Tohsaka screamed, shaking her hand. "We're both going to _die_ unless we can figure out a way to stop that thing! I _get_ that you're a shitty magus and didn't ask for any of this and I'm- I'm _sorry_ for dragging you into this War, okay? But right now, Shirou, I need you to get your goddamn head in the game and start being useful!" She stopped, breathing heavily.

There was as much of an uncomfortable silence as there can be while a giant does its level best to destroy the building you're standing in.

"Okay," Shirou said, "okay. I'm sorry."

Tohsaka huffed and looked away. "That's fine."

"But, uh, I still have no idea what I can do about, well, anything. You saw me back there! I do my best, but I got pretty wrecked just against that other magus. What do you expect me to do against..." he gestured at the bulk of Rider's new form, "_that_?"

"We don't have to beat it. That's what Servants are for. All I need you, personally to do is help me out against the Master – same as before, only, you know, in the fresh air now. No, there's something else you can do."

Shirou briefly thought it was unfair that Tohsaka got to crack jokes and he didn't, but let it slide. "And what's that?"

"Get Berserker on board with whatever plan we cook up. Look, she clearly doesn't like either me or Caster, but she should at least listen to you. We've still got two Servants to his one, so as unlikely as it sounds this is still winnable."

"Um," Shirou began, "How am I supposed to get Sayaka's attention? She looks..." he gestured helplessly towards where his Servant had grabbed a lock of the giant's hair in one hand and was hammering away at his forehead with the other, "sort of preoccupied."

Tohsaka stared at him. "With telepathy, obviously. Don't tell me you don't- no, of course you wouldn't." She kneaded her forehead with her hand. "Okay, this is how it works. Focus on the link between you and her. Think about the Command Seals if it helps. Quickly now, before Rider's Master appears. Something like a building collapsing on her won't faze her."

Shirou did. He might have been imagining it, but there was… something. It was like a subtle pull in what he realised was Sayaka's direction, but on the mind and not the body. "I think I have it."

"I hope so. Next, send a message down it. Language is a framework for thought, and thought is the crudest expression of your soul, and it's natural for the soul to be conveyed through magic, right? Think of it that way, and send a message."

Shirou focused. It made a certain kind of sense. He wasn't speaking with his body, with vibrating flaps of sinew and flopping muscles in his mouth, he was just communicating directly with his soul. Speaking from the heart, basically. Heh. Put like that, it seemed the more natural way of delivering information… "What should I tell her?"

"Tell Berserker to be ready, because Caster has a plan, apparently."

Shirou lost concentration, and looked at Tohsaka. "He does? What plan?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. He just says it'll get Rider's attention, and won't risk hurting innocents."

Wouldn't hurt innocents? It was honestly kind of worrying that Caster had to specify that… or that Tohsaka had to ask it. But, well, technically the reassurance was good, right? He refocused, and sent his message.

"_Sayaka! Tohsaka says to be ready, because Caster's going to cause some kind of distraction. Will you be able to take out Rider as long as he's not focused on fighting you?"_

The blue figure paused in her assault, and leapt onto Rider's shoulder to avoid the counter-attack. _"I dunno, maybe? I keep cutting, but he keeps on healing! I'm suddenly understanding why people get so annoyed when fighting me, because this is _really irritating._"_

Shirou snorted, then looked guiltily at Tohsaka's raised eyebrow. _"Well, keep it together and try not to enter that Mad Enhancement thing. I need you sane so you can help me out… and so I have someone to talk to that isn't Tohsaka's bitchy real self or The Most Interesting Man In The World, you know?"_

"_You got it, Shirou."_

Up on that portion of the rood that was undamaged, Caster appeared. He still had that enormous sword that had allowed him to pose as a Saber, but at the moment it was sheathed on his back. He looked to be taking a deep breath.

Tohsaka gripped Shirou's shoulder, making him yelp. "Caster says in three."

"_In three, Sayaka!" _The blue Servant leapt clear, flashing over to stand between Rider and Shirou. She looked very much the worse for wear, with blood all over her face and an arm that bent the wrong way. As Shirou watched, though, she gave her arm a sharp tug and it snapped back into position.

He was about to ask her if that hurt. But at that moment, Caster finally made his move, and there was no more room for sound.

**/DUR/ /NEH/ /VIIR/**

In front of Rider, the air _tore_ in a rough dome shape. Purple fire raged from the cracks, rushing to the centre and forming a shape. It was a shape Shirou had seen before – but never in real life.

"No..." whispered Tohsaka.

With a mighty roar, an iron grey dragon, nearly fifty feet long from tip to tail, appeared out of thin air. It beat its wings, and howled a blizzard at the giant. In the path of the attack, mist congealed, the ground frosted over, trees turned white – and Rider's upraised arm froze almost solid. If it had raised its arm a second later, its face would have been the one to freeze. The dragon lunged forward and made to bite the giant's neck – but was caught by the horns in a single massive hand. Then Rider began to counter-attack.

Heedless of its own flesh cracking and breaking off, the giant slammed its frozen arm into the beast's head, then threw it bodily onto the remains of Kotomine church. The grey bulk thrashed and screamed, reducing what little had been left of the building to rubble.

"What is he doing?" Tohsaka yelled. "We're supposed to be keeping this war _secret_!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to agree with Miss Perfect on this one," said Sayaka. "What kind of nutjob think adding a dragon to a situation is ever a good idea?"

The dragon roared again, and launched a purplish ball of energy that hit Rider in the chest. The giant howled in fury, and charged in with a kick that impacted on the dragon's hide with the force of a bomb. It kept up the assault, pounding the beast into the foundation of the church. For all that, though, its blows seemed less effective than before – was it tiring easier? It seemed to be slowing down, Shirou thought. This time, when the dragon lashed its tail like a whip and left a bloody welt on the giant's chest, the wounds seemed slower to close.

"Well," came Caster's voice from next to them, "it seemed like a good idea to _me_." Shirou looked. There was nothing there. In fact, Caster was still on the roof, watching the battle carefully. So how was he…? Oh, forget it. Shirou chalked it up to Caster being Caster and just listened to what he had to say. "We're just too small to deal any critical damage to him, and it can toss us around like dolls. What we need to something large enough that he can't just ignore it, and my old friend Durnehviir seemed just perfect. Besides, he likes to be let out of the Soul Cairn whenever he can."

"And will he go back _in_?" Tohsaka demanded, a little shrilly. "You know, before he decides to destroy my city? Or reveal the existence of magic to the world?! He's not exactly subtle!"

"Oh, he'll go back eventually. And as far as dragons go he's fairly docile." The dragon, Durnehviir, let loose another blast of well-below-freezing temperatures, and aimed a vicious bite to Rider's collarbone, ignoring the chokehold his lower neck was in. "I don't expect he'll try to destroy the city. Although I suppose he has been cooped up for a while..."

Tohsaka threw up her hands. "Great. Great! So we have a giant who's already destroyed Kotomine church, a freaking _dragon_ who may or may not try to destroy my city once he's done eating said giant, and a Master somewhere around here who can survive the equivalent of a grenade at point-blank range! Kirei might have just had his own church collapsed on him, my temporary ally is a third-rate magus who might possibly be able to turn a stick into a harder stick, and my own Servant literally cannot stop disappointing me at every turn! The only one I can apparently rely on is the Servant of Madness, which I guess makes sense because _this world has clearly gone insane._ So tell me, Berserker, what's your contribution to this situation?"

Dull thuds punctuated her words, as Rider bounced Durnehviir's head off any parts of the building remaining. The dragon answered with a blast of frost that could have stopped a man's heart directly into the giant's chest. Neither combatant showed signs of giving up.

More quietly, Shirou added, "If there's anything you could do, we'd appreciate it. I mean, this _is _supposed to be a secret war, after all."

Sayaka, who'd been scowling at Rin all through her tirade, perked up. "Oh, well, if you think it's a good idea, I guess there _is_ something I could do. My Noble Phantasm, or one application of it. It should be able to remove the giant and the dragon from the battlefield, so you guys can find that priest guy and deal with the enemy Master. But, um, _in the interests of full disclosure_," she sent a dark look at where Caster stood unconcerned on the ruins of the roof, "it has the potential to look a bit… weird, so don't be surprised. And don't interrupt, or you'll be pulled inside, and that's not a safe place to be."

"Berserker, we don't have time for any more games or being coy, so for the love of God, just-" Tohsaka broke off, apparently distracted by the cutlass held an inch from her eye.

"_I don't take orders from you, _princess. If Shirou wants me to help, I'll help, but _you_ can just butt out," Sayaka snarled. She held the sword rock-steady, but the fact she'd drawn on Tohsaka at all was a reminder of how unstable she really was. She was fully ready to kill her own ally while monsters battled around her.

Shirou ever-so-gently took hold of the blade and guided it away from Tohsaka's paper-white face. As though Sayaka was some wild animal, he spoke slowly and quietly. "Please don't attack our allies, Sayaka. And yes, it would be very helpful for you to help out in whatever way you can. Just do your best, okay?" He gave her a friendly smile.

His Servant nodded, and beamed at him, all earlier savagery entirely absent from her demeanour. "Okay, Shirou! Oh, but, stand back. And like I said, _don't interfere_, no matter what it looks like."

So saying, she took her sword and reversed it in her grip. Because she'd told Shirou to stay back, he didn't move at all when she plunged it into her own chest. And because she'd warned him it would be weird, he let out no more than a strangled gasp, and heard her clearly when she announced the name of her Noble Phantasm.

"**Symposium Magarum."**

* * *

Unseen, a small white creature observed, and sniffed the air.

"_How interesting_," it said.

* * *

Servant Stats (as seen by Rin)

_Class: Rider_

_Name: _?

_Alignment: _Chaotic Neutral

_Stats:_

Strength – D

Endurance – B

Agility – A+

Mana – D

Luck – C

Noble Phantasm – B

_Class Skills:_ Riding – B, Magic Resistance C

_Personal Skills:_ ?

?

_Noble Phantasm:_ **Rogue Titan** – Rider becomes the monster he was committed to fighting in life, but through great willpower uses this form to grant him the power to destroy them. This Noble Phantasm increases Rider's Strength and Endurance by 3 ranks and grants Battle Continuation at Rank A, but lowers Agility by 1 rank. In addition, it allows some retention of sanity during Mad Enhancement. Rider counts as a Monstrous Beast while using this form. All wounds are regenerated when Rider enters this form.


	8. Chapter 8 - Symposium Magarum

When Bazett emerged from the rubble of Kotomine church to find one of the enemy Servants stabbing itself in the chest, she _knew_ it couldn't be that easy.

The life of an Enforcer for the Magus Association was often short, often unpleasant, and worst of all didn't pay all that well. In the years Bazett had had the job, she'd dealt with out-of-control outbreaks of vampirism, mad magi who'd broken all bonds of morality and common sense, and more sinister incidents caused by _things_ that had never been human at all. It had left scars, not all of them physical. Part of being an Enforcer was daring to face that part of the Moonlit World that even most magi just didn't encounter, and having the resilience to walk away. Some of the best Enforcers Bazett knew had neither magical might or a talent for conflict, but simply refused to let the unrelenting horror of their job get to them – where those more powerful on paper just broke instead.

The point was, Bazett had seen some shit.

But what emerged from the spray of blood coming out of Berserker's back was… a nightmare. It unfolded from nowhere, spreading like a rumour, until it towered over even Rider and the dragon he was fighting. The thing looked vaguely like an armoured mermaid the size of a tower, with a grinning three-eyed helmet and a tree-sized version of Berserker's cutlass clenched in one fist.

Bazett could barely see what it looked like, though. Her eyes just refused to focus on it, it was _wrong_ somehow in the way that nothing else she'd seen had been. This demon Berserker had summoned didn't belong in this reality, that was all there was to it. And yet, Bazett had to urge herself to move. To shoulder the rocks on top of her aside, and not hide under them. Not burrow down as deep as she could and pretend she was somewhere else. Her instincts were _also_ telling her that whatever this was, it was humanity's natural predator. Utterly alien to this universe, and yet at the same time the next rung up on the food chain.

When it screamed in rage, an echo of Berserker's own cry, the sound was strangely musical, and grated like nails on a chalkboard. Rider flinched and whirled around, shockingly quick for something his size, and the dragon used the opportunity to lunge for his neck again.

With what little of Bazett's attention wasn't focused on the abomination Berserker had just summoned, she saw Saber form some kind of vortex in his hand. She was a bit far away, but she thought she heard him mutter something about 'being shown up'. A second later, there was a burst of purple fire that would have looked otherworldly against a backdrop other than Berserker's monster. From it stepped… another Servant? Some humanoid creature, red-skinned where it wasn't in ornate black armour. It snapped its head up in Bazett's direction and surged towards her.

"**I smell weakness!**"

"The hell? Saber can summon demons?" Bazett muttered. She shook her head. That wasn't important. What was important was getting rid of-

The mermaid lunged forward – not Servant-quick, but fast enough. It abruptly disappeared in an eye-watering burst of what appeared to Bazett like static. When it cleared, Berserker, Saber, Rider and the dragon had all disappeared with it. The churchyard seemed very quiet all of a sudden.

Well, there was still the demon sprinting towards her howling for blood. Compared to the noise of a giant fighting a dragon while a building tried futilely to get in the way, though, it was positively peaceful. Bazett ignored it for now.

Berserker was a priority, now that her horrifying Noble Phantasm had been revealed. She'd vanished to… wherever the hell it was that her monster had taken Rider, but both enemy Masters were still around. From the brief argument she'd overheard, she guessed that the boy was her Master, and the Tohsaka girl was the Master of Saber. The red-haired boy seemed a barely third-rate magus, from the brief exchange they'd had, which probably explained why he'd gone for a Berserker. The Mad Enhancement would power-up even a weak Servant, allowing it to fight on the level of one supported by a stronger magus.

As her mind raced, the demon reached the ruins and kicked aside a rock that was in its way. It snarled, and the greatsword it was carrying burst into flame.

On the other hand, the Tohsaka was a much bigger threat, and Saber-class Servants were never to be underestimated either. Especially not _this_ one. First the dragon (which was frankly _unfair_), now this humanoid demon-thing… maybe some skill to resurrect his fallen foes? Powerful, if so. This thing was almost Servant-level just by itself.

Almost.

As it drew within striking distance of Bazett, Bazett… struck. Runes flared to life on her suit and gloves, and a faint hum of prana betrayed the fact that _this _time, she was reinforcing her body.

To its credit, the demon did manage to block, and her fist hammered into its sword and not its armoured chest. It didn't make a lot of difference. The force of her punch sent the thing flying back the way it had come, snarling in pain and fury. It hit the ground and rolled, carving a little trench into the churchyard.. The two Masters blinked at her.

"Right," she said, rolling her shoulders. "Let's try this again."

The armoured thing wrenched itself upright and lunged at Bazett again. This time, she met it halfway, deflecting its sword stoke upwards and driving an elbow into its ribs. Its armour didn't quite crack, but she could feel the stress begin to get to it, and her attacker crumpled to the ground once more.

Bazett made to finish it off, but caught a glint out of the corner of her eye. More of those _damn_ gems – or rather, a crushed ruby, its pieces streaking towards her as fireballs. Bazett fought down a feeling of envy. If she had access to that kind of jewellery, she damn well wouldn't be blowing it up just to take her enemies down! People starving to death, and this girl explodes a perfectly good ruby… and were those Gandr shots in there as well? That vindictive bitch!

Not that any of that would actually hurt Bazett, but still.

She stepped out of the way, but the fireballs homed in on her. Annoying – whatever else she was, the Tohsaka girl had some skill. Well, if Bazett wasn't able to dodge them…

A fusillade of blows rang out, and each and every one of the ruby shards crumbled to dust under Bazett's fists. She almost laughed at Tohsaka's dumbfounded expression. Honestly. Her combat style wasn't a secret, it should be obvious that she had extra protection for her knuckles and wrists, and yet everyone always acted so surprised when she punched their spells aside.

She spared a moment to look through Eren's eyes-

_-the auditorium was large enough that even his head didn't reach the ceiling, and every inch of it was _wrong_ in the same way that the mermaid was. An unholy noise blasted from the pit in the centre, so loud that he didn't even hear the dragon's roar as it turned air to ice in front of it-_

Yikes. What on Earth of off of it was happening over there? Bazett could hardly process the sight, it had been so unnatural. She'd better take care of this quickly, before Eren was overwhelmed.

She brushed some rubble off her suit – dry cleaning was expensive! - and stalked towards the Masters.

"Feel like surrendering?" she said, affecting a bored tone she really didn't feel. "I'm not usually one to beat up on children, leaves a bad taste in the mouth, y'know? I'd feel a lot better about things if you were putting up a fight, but this is just sad." She shook her head as if in disappointment, but kept an eye on Saber's demon where it was recovering. "Honestly, I'd expected to be fighting seasoned killers or jaded Magi or something when I signed up. But the two of you must be, what, fourteen? You don't need to see the kind of shit that's about to go down in Fuyuki. Hell, even _I'd_ be happier out of it if I didn't have a job to do. _Pretty_ please surrender?"

In reply, there was a flurry of hateful Gandr shots from the Tohsaka. Bazett covered her head with her arms and took the lot on her suit. "No," added the girl, unnecessarily.

The red-haired kid had picked up a piece of rebar and was holding it out in front of him like a cudgel. Reinforced, if his previous combat style was anything to go by, and not very well at that. Not a problem. Besides which, he seemed to be taking a more defensive role, standing between Bazett and Tohsaka. It was kind of adorable, actually.

The girl snapped her fingers, and a gem Bazett hadn't seen exploded right by her foot, in a whirl of gravity distortions. It would have taken her foot off, even through the suit, if she hadn't lifted it out of the way at the last minute. _Again?_ Bazett thought. _Jesus, Mary and Joseph, these things are annoying. _She caught a glimpse of orange out of the corner of her eye, and reflexively shot a fist at it.

Her glove rebounded off the flaming sword of Saber's demon – but off-balance as she was, it began to push her over. The thing was _strong_. It shouted in triumph as it bore down on her, and she could feel the heat of the flames even through the suit. If it got a good hit in with that thing…

Another Gandr shot impacted her shoulder where she'd hunched it to protect her head pushing her further off balance, and she growled. The girl was getting on her nerves. Bazett began to fall… and then she managed to get her foot underneath her.

Even off-balance, even injured, even low on prana from maintaining a Servant and its Noble Phantasm, Bazett Fraga McRemitz was still one of the brightest stars of the Enforcers. Now that she had leverage, she _twisted _and _crouched_ and _struck_. Her fist met the chin of Saber's demon like an asteroid. It didn't just knock the thing out, or back, although it did both those things. The entire jaw shattered like an eggshell, and the skull wasn't far behind. With a final roar the demon disappeared inside a halo of purple fire – and with a kind of curious pulling sensation that didn't feel like any magic Bazett had ever come across.

She paused, her fist in the air, glove smoking slightly. The next few moments would be crucial. As if nothing unusual had just happened, Bazett lowered her fist and brushed herself off. Only then did she turn to the stunned pair of kids.

"There was a question I had, actually," she continued, casually, as if she hadn't been interrupted by a landmine and a demon. "Kirei told me it was the Einzberns that had drawn a Saber again this time around. If you're Tohsaka, how come you have one too?"

The girl had recovered enough to toss her hair over one shoulder and shrug.

"Eh, I don't really care," said Bazett. "Einzberns cheating again, or using some representative, or an alliance I haven't heard about. Whatever. The important thing is, I think I win."

"Oh?" said Tohsaka, shoving her hands into her pockets and raising an eyebrow. "Because from where I'm standing, your Servant's been in a cage match against both of ours, a dragon, and some kind of horrific hell-thing for at least a couple of minutes. How's he doing, do you think?"

There was a pause. Bazett delved into her connection with Eren again-

_-he hadn't realised having his shoulder chewed on would _hurt_ so much, and it was dangerously close to the sweet spot at the back of the neck. If it was just the dragon he could dislodge it, but every time he tried his hand was caught in a _wheel_, of all things, or the mermaid would stab him again, or Saber would release another wave of red energy at his spine, and Berserker hadn't _stopped_ slashing at his eyes ever since he got here and it all _hurt_ and-_

"_Rider, get out of there!"_ Bazett yelled in shock through the link. Through his eyes, she looked around the unnatural pocket dimension for any kind of exit. _"There!"_ she shouted. "_Stage left!"_

-_Eren bellowed, and tackled the dragon forward. With an immense effort, he lifted the thing entirely and threw it aside, even as it ripped apart his collarbone on the way out. With earthshaking steps Eren sprinted for the exit his Master had spotted-_

There was a shattering noise in the air, and the giant form of Rider appeared, running out of a tunnel to nowhere. Behind him, Bazett could see monsters, chasing him out. As soon as Eren hit solid ground, Bazett jumped up into his hand, and with a frantic _"Go, go!" _he carried her away from Kotomine Church.

When they were clear, and Bazett was sure no-one (and no_thing_) was following them, she had Eren put her down. The giant knelt, and she stepped off – and no sooner had she done so than Rider's giant form began to dissolve. It was actually kind of fascinating to see. Masses of flesh just disappeared into great clouds of steam, and then into nothing at all. Before long, the brown-haired seventeen-year-old lay on the ground in front of her, breathing heavily. There were some kind of cuts or marks on his face, like someone had taken a knife and cut grooves from his eyes towards his jaw and forehead. He looked exhausted, but alert. That was a soldier for you, Bazett supposed.

"Sorry," he said, as soon as he had his breath back. "We failed."

Bazett waved a hand. "Eh, no big. It would have been nice to kill Kirei on the first try, and I wish we'd managed to conceal your Noble Phantasm for a little longer, but we had a good look at the competition and managed to destroy that bastard's base of operations. I'm good with calling it a night and trying again tomorrow. What do you say?"

Eren nodded, tiredly, and struggled to his feet. His eyes had lost none of their fire, and he stood with his back straight, if swaying slightly. _Not Cu Chulainn,_ Bazett thought. _But not bad at all. _From the looks of things, she was on the higher end of the power scale as far as Masters went. As long as Rider managed to tie up the enemy Servant long enough, she could finish the Master. Given that he'd survived two Servants at once, with their own ancillary summons thrown into the mix no less, that seemed like a safe bet.

She hadn't been lying, she would have preferred that the two kids Masters surrender. But they'd proven themselves dangerous. Tohsaka was no slouch on the magical side of things with her gems, and was canny enough to be a problem. Saber was, well, a Saber, for one thing. And his ability to summon creatures to his aid made him incredibly awkward to fight – she doubted many other heroes would have Eren's capacity to physically restrain a dragon.

The red-haired kid, on the other hand, was nothing special. Honestly the most dangerous thing about him was his determination to fight while so badly-prepared for the War. Berserker on the other hand… Bazett remembered the hellish mermaid, and shivered.

No, the Saber-Berserker alliance was too potent to leave alone. Next time, she wouldn't be pulling any punches.

_Better watch out, Tohsaka_, thought Bazett. _You just lost your best chance at taking out your biggest threat in this War._

* * *

"Well, looks like that's that," said Rin, once Rider's earthshaking footsteps had died away and it was obvious that he and his Master weren't coming back. She stretched herself off, and looked around at the rubble. "Wow, we really did a number on this place."

Kotomine church had not responded well to having a three-way Servant attack conducted on the roof and grounds. There was exactly one wall left standing, that being half of the rear frieze. All the rest had collapsed in on the foundation. Not a single pew was left intact, and the altar was buried beneath masonry.

Kirei was nowhere to be seen.

_Ah, crap._ Usually Rin would have welcomed Kirei going away and not showing his smug face, but now she actually needed him to do his job for once. Christ, she hoped he wasn't dead. As Second Owner, it would be entirely on her head to not only arrange for a replacement Grail War moderator but also explain what had happened to the old one. Not to mention, any other moderator might not be as sympathetic to the Tohsaka cause as the Kotomines had traditionally been. And _that _was without mentioning what could go wrong in an unmoderated Grail War…

What a mess. Well, no use whining about it. If Kirei was alive, he'd probably show up to annoy Rin as soon as he wanted something from her. Until then, he'd probably be on the run from the Master with a grudge. It was what Rin would do if she'd had a Servant after her without one of her own to hide behind.

When Kirei did get in touch, Rin would give him an earful about wasting time and letting things get out of hand before all the Servants were even summoned. She was also going to have a hard word with him about just where the enemy Master might have gotten the idea that he was messing with the War for his own purposes, because she could totally see Kirei doing that. Not that she would have presented anything less than a united front before the other woman, of course.

On the other hand, if Kirei was dead, then he was dead, simple as that, and Rin would just have to take charge of the War until things got back on track. Although she doubted this was the case. The man was hard to squash, and until Rin saw a body she refused to believe Kirei wasn't biding his time to reveal himself at the most embarrassing time possible for her.

...such as when she won the Grail War, only to refuse to hand the prize to her until all seven Masters had been registered properly and the War formally started, even if Rin had to drag their corpses to the ruins of the church herself. Shit, he might actually do that. Bastard!

"You alright, Tohsaka?" Emiya was saying. Berserker had returned to him at this point, and was smiling cheerfully. There was no sign of the wound in her stomach, or of the horror that had come out of it. The roiling, impossible monster, larger than a building, that wanted nothing more than to kill Rin and all her family and all her friends until-

"Hm?" Rin said, snapping herself out of it.

"I asked if you were okay," Emiya said sheepishly. "You were frowning a lot and were lost in thought, so I wondered if that was the first Servant battle you'd been in or something."

Hah. Not likely. Rin remembered the Fourth Grail War, after all. She could tell him things about monsters… "I'm sure I don't need you to worry about me, Emiya. I'm perfectly fine." Rin smoothed down her dress and coat. "Oh, and don't die until the war's over, okay?" Rin had no intention of presenting Emiya's corpse to Kirei when he could damn well walk.

"What?"

"Nothing. Come on, Emiya, let's get you home."

"I thought we were going to see the moderator? You know, to have him register me or something?"

Rin sighed. Couldn't he keep up? "Do _you_ see that fake priest anywhere? Look, our job's done. We went to see the moderator, not our fault he wasn't here to receive us." More to the point, _her_ job was done. Emiya probably did have to go and see Kirei at some point, but in this case the priest could get off his ass and make a house call for once. If it came to it, Rin would call a truce for as long as it took to get the formalities out of the way. It was kind of her fault Emiya was in the War, after all, not that she'd ever admit that out loud.

Emiya looked dubious, but nodded. "I suppose that's fair enough. So I guess you'll be the one to show me the ropes, then? I'll be in your care, Tohsaka." He bowed quickly.

Ah, shit. She couldn't very well say no now, could she? She'd forgotten that that was also a part of the Moderator's job – although rarely used, because usually if you were getting involved with the Grail War you had some kind of clue what you were getting into. The fact that you had to draw an intricate circle, and perform a specific chant while channelling prana, ruled out most casuals from becoming participants. How had Emiya even… ah, screw it, she didn't care.

"Ugh. Fine," she said. "Come on, I'll explain things on the way back. It has been a _long_ day, and I want to be in bed before midnight if possible."

With a shimmer, and hint of winter air, Caster appeared at her side. "_Is that wise, Master?_"

Rin frowned, unsure why he was using telepathy. She answered in kind anyway. "_Well, yeah. I don't think we'll have any more excitement tonight, and I'd like to be as rested as possible for school-"_

"_Not that," _Caster interrupted. "_Should you really be telling the boy how the War is run? Remember, Master, he is your enemy as of tonight. __You said you owed him a debt for falsely accusing him of being the Master of Archer, and for destroying his house. Now, you have repaired his home, explained the basics of the War, and even aided him in battle against another Servant. You have certainly discharged any debt you owe. My advice is to leave him to it and let him learn by himself, or better yet __kill__ the boy and Berserker while they are tired and weak."_

"_I thought we established I'm not taking your advice on killing people?" _Rin thought acidly, and returned her focus to the world. "Well? Let's get going, Emiya. Think up some specific questions while we walk, I'm not going to spoon-feed you information."

They left as a four, leaving the ruined church behind them.

Just outside the church grounds, Caster said, "Ah, Master. Can I request that we return home a different way?"

Rin blinked. "Why?"

"With Servant Archer active, it would be unwise to travel along predictable routes. She may well have noted us approaching the church, and be waiting to take a shot as soon as we are no longer on neutral ground. It is what I would do were I tasked as a sharpshooter."

Erk. That was a good point, and Rin really should have thought of it. It was a good thing Caster was such an underhanded bastard, she supposed. She was really going to have to raise her game if she was going to have to compete on the same level as the Servants. It was easy to focus on their combat strength and forget that these were some of the greatest tacticians and strategists in history.

"Got it. New plan, Emiya, we're going via New Town. It's a bit out of my way, but we'll have to cross the bridge at some point anyway, and it's just to throw off Archer. Besides, you can let Berserker have a look around or something." Rin shrugged. "It's not like it really matters except to the wanderlust idiot here."

Caster nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Master. It's always a pleasure to see more of the world."

"Yeah, yeah." The quartet walked away from the church, heading north this time, rather than the route straight east that would take them directly to the bridge to Miyama Town. Ahead of them, the lights of New Town glowed. They went in silence, until Rin couldn't stand it anymore. "Anyway," she said suddenly, "Emiya, thought of any questions yet?"

Emiya nodded. "Yeah, I have. Uh, this actually goes for all three of you, I guess. Just… what _is_ a Servant? You said they were heroes, but I never expected anything like..." he waved a hand back where they'd come from, "_that_. Are the Grail Wars always so destructive?"

Rin nodded. "Good questions. To answer the second, kind of yes. Although not usually so early..." she muttered. "Anyway. When someone leaves their mark on humanity, stands out from everyone else in their own time, they transcend time and space and are stored in a kind of cosmic library called the Throne of Heroes."

"Ah, OK. And then we magi summon those Heroic Spirits to fight in the Grail Wars," put in Emiya.

"Don't interrupt when you don't know what you're talking about, please," Rin said, quite patiently she thought. Honestly. Berserker growled at the hostility to her Master, but Emiya had the grace to look chastened. "Heroic Spirits themselves don't get summoned except in very rare cases. If one showed up in response to anything _you_ did, or me for that matter, it would count as an honest-to-goodness miracle.

"No, the summoning ritual makes a copy of the main body in the throne of heroes and materialises it as essentially an ultra-powerful familiar. Usually a familiar can't be more powerful than the magus that created it since it gets all its power from its creator, but Servants are an exception. The copy is given form around the metaphysical framework of the vessel – its class. So it's not that every hero summoned falls perfectly into one of the seven classes, but rather that the classes shape the heroes that are summoned. Well, they do need a base compatibility for the vessel… anyway. While on earth they're essentially spirits powerful enough to materialise and affect the physical world. As such, if they run out of prana, they will discorporate and die. On the other hand, their form is human, internals and all, which is why they can bleed. If they take enough damage, they will die.

"Which brings me on to how the War is fought. Essentially, the last Master-Servant pair standing wins the Grail. Servants can't last long without a Master: the Grail provides most of the prana for them, but without a link to the Master the Grail won't provide anything at all. So if you take out the Master, you usually take out the Servant as well. Be careful though, as some Servants are powerful enough to last long enough to take you down with them, and all Archer-class Servants can operate for a little while without a Master." Apparently that little trait had been added by one of her ancestors, who'd been terminally ill at the time and wanted to ensure his Archer lived long enough to take revenge should the worst happen.

Emiya seemed to actually be following along, which was more than Rin had expected. "Okay, so the Servants depend on the Master to keep them alive, and the Master depends on the Servant to actually claim the prize… and I guess to do most of the actual fighting?"

"Eh, close enough. Yeah, traditionally Masters tend to hang back and let the Servants battle it out. But, there are enough exceptions that you really can't assume that'll happen. Case in point, that red-headed woman we just fought. If I had to guess, she was some kind of combat-focused magus." Rin sniffed. "Hardly a magus at all, if you ask me. Just how she thinks punching things really hard will help her reach Akasha… hmph. In any case, just because you're a Master, don't think that means you can sit back and watch Berserker do all the work."

Emiya's eyes hardened. "Oh, I intend to do all that I can to make things easier on her. I don't intend to finish this War and not fight a single battle."

At that, Berserker spun on her heel to scowl at Emiya, walking backwards. Rin idly noted that the Servant had perfect balance, even on her high heeled boots. Unfair.

"Uh, nope," said the blue Servant. "I'm the invulnerable one here, not you. If you want to help? _Stay out of my way_. Look, I like you and all, but you're not exactly a hardened battlemage. Even Miss Perfect over there took you out effortlessly back at your place, and there's nothing to her but stockings and an attitude."

Rin gasped. "Listen here, you-" A heavy hand, flickering with some kind of pale green energy, patted her on the shoulder, and she calmed down immediately. It was fine, she had her Servant with her. There was no need to fight. She took a breath and began again. "Berserker is right. As a Servant, she has as good a chance in a fight as anyone. But she can't do anything if you go and get yourself captured by a Master more powerful than you."

"Hm." Emiya frowned, clearly not happy. "I'm not sure I like that. Not used to feeling, I don't know. Powerless, I guess. Especially when a girl has to fight in my place."

Berserker chucked him on the shoulder, rocking him sideways. "Eh, don't worry about it, Shirou! Just stay behind me and look pretty if anything happens. There's nothing wrong with playing the damsel to a dashing knight like me!" She leered at Emiya, who at least had the decency to blush furiously.

"I would also remind you that you've had your ass kicked by not one but two girls tonight, _Em-i-ya_," said Rin. She was smiling as she said it, so she wasn't sure why he blanched and backed away behind Berserker. He looked at Caster for aid, but the blond Servant simply grinned at him. Emiya sighed.

"Fine. I guess I am a little helpless compared to you, Sayaka. Then, I'll be in your care also." He laughed bitterly. "I mean, what can I do to compare with summoning a monster from an alternate dimension?" Seemingly remembering something, he frowned and looked at Caster. "Actually, that's something. Can all Servants summon monsters? Like, those associated with their legends or something?"

Berserker shook her head. "Nah, that's not a common thing. He," she pointed her thumb at Caster," can do it because he's a wizard and that's how they roll. I can do it because, well, um, a long story actually. But I still have the skill as part of my Noble Phantasm."

"Noble what now?"

Oh, right. Rin cleared her throat. "It's part of being a Servant. Every hero has something that becomes the symbol of their legend. All the power of that story, all the fame, the belief, it all crystallises into something we call a Noble Phantasm. It can be a weapon, a tool, a technique, or even a curse. For example, when you think about the story of King Arthur, what do you think about?"

Emiya nodded slowly. "The Round Table."

"_Excalibur_, you idiot. God, didn't you ever play knight as a kid? It's the swords everyone remembers." Berserker nodded enthusiastically. Rin wished her supporter wasn't the one officially insane Servant, but whatever.

"Uh, right. Sorry. Carry on, Tohsaka."

"Usually, a Servant will only have one Noble Phantasm. That said, it's a dangerous generalisation to make, and a Servant _can_ have two or even three. It's not especially common, but it happens." She wasn't going to mention Eternal Quester, which gave Caster over twenty artefacts on the level of a weak Noble Phantasm. There was being precise, and then there was being stupid. "Anyway, Noble Phantasms are powerful. Usually enough to turn the tide of a battle all by itself. If it's not enough to make you say, 'Wow, that's unfair', you're looking at a weak Noble Phantasm, basically. It wouldn't be entirely wrong to say that a battle between Servants is a battle between Noble Phantasms… although there will always be exceptions."

Emiya contemplated that. "I see. So it's like a finishing move, or something? And yours," he nodded towards Berserker, "is that mermaid summon and pocket dimension, right? So what's yours, Caster?"

The big man smiled. "That would be telling, boy."

"That's the other thing you should know," Rin put in. "Just like any war, the Grail War involves information security. Knowing which hero you're up against can give a huge advantage. To take the classic example, if you're fighting against Achilles, you know to aim for the heel. You can also make a guess as to their fighting style, and even their Noble Phantasm if they're especially famous. So, my Servant will _not_ be telling you all his best moves, thank you very much. We _are_ enemies, you know."

As soon as she said it, Rin wished she hadn't. The mood dropped immediately. Emiya frowned and looked down at the pavement. Berserker bristled at the declaration of hostilities, and her hands gripped imaginary hilts – ready to summon her cutlass, Rin knew. For his part, Caster stepped up behind Berserker, hands at the ready. The blue Servant twitched, her eyes flitting between Rin and Caster, watching for movement.

Shit. If she'd just kept her mouth shut, or even reined in the attitude, she could have gotten everyone home without incident. Rin hadn't wanted this. For one thing, she meant what she'd said earlier – it had been a _long _day. She'd already been in three Servant battles since this evening – Archer, Berserker, Rider – and even her prana had limits. Frankly, she didn't know how Emiya was holding up so well, given his pitiful prana capacity. For another, they were nowhere near where she'd have chosen for a fight. New Town was the downtown district of Fuyuki, with the financial sector and tourist area. If there were any people out wandering at this hour, this was where they'd be. And who knew who could be watching from the hundreds of windows? Not to mention, if Archer was going to spring an ambush, this was her perfect terrain.

And, well, she hadn't really been expecting to fight Emiya so soon. Earlier, sure, when she'd thought he was a rogue magus operating on her turf and getting involved with the War on his own account. But now? He was just a random guy involved by accident, and Rin kind of felt sorry for him. No, not even just a random guy, Rin's own classmate. How was she supposed to go to school after the War was over knowing there was an empty table in class because of her? Damn that Berserker and her class-induced paranoia. Just for the bad luck of summoning the wrong Servant class, Emiya was going to die.

Stupid War.

She honestly didn't know what she would have done next, because that was when Caster chose to speak up.

"Master. There's a spell active in the area."

"Are you sure?" She didn't feel anything, and she liked to think she was pretty good at that kind of thing.

To her surprise, Emiya was nodding as well, sniffing the air. "You're right, Caster," he said. "Coming from the shopping mall, right? Smells like gingerbread to me."

Rin concentrated. There _was_ a very faint tingle of magic in the air. She might not even have noticed if she hadn't been specifically looking. Interesting – she'd have expected the Servant of the Spell to pick it up (just another reason she was glad, in hindsight, to have summoned a Caster), but Emiya had pretty good senses for magic if he was able to sense it so clearly.

On the other hand, Rin was the one with the necessary experience to identify the spell. "A magical lure… or more like a beacon? More subtle than I'd have expected, so I think this is supposed to act as a signal to Masters and Servants rather than trying to trap normal people. I guess another word for it would be-"

"A challenge," Caster said, rubbing his mailed hands together. "Come, Berserker. Let us join forces one last time to crush this threat! Let's not spoil the night by turning on each other so soon."

Berserker ground her teeth, but when Emiya laid a hand on her shoulder she subsided after twitching once. Her cutlass vanished into nowhere. "Fine," she said. "One more time, then my Master and I are outta here."

Rin let out a breath, and relaxed very slightly. "Alright then. Let's see who's on the other end of this line."

* * *

So far, the War had been _so boring._

Okay, it hadn't technically started yet. But still! Ilya had been in Fuyuki for, like, a week now and hadn't even _seen_ an enemy Servant. She supposed she should have been preparing stuff for the War or something, but there was only so much she could do. She had a castle, and she had Saber, and that was pretty much sufficient for the War. Actually, she wasn't sure she even needed the castle except to sleep in between rounds of stomping all over anyone stupid enough to get in Saber's way.

Ilya had checked out her brother's place, obviously, on the first day she'd arrived in Japan. She'd wanted to talk to him in order to hurry him up, and get him to summon his Servant already (and, um, maybe tease him a bit and see how he responded to seeing his long-lost sister after all these years), but Saber had persuaded her not to. She got it, she supposed. There'd be more than enough time during the actual War to have it out with him for luring her daddy away from her, no need to jump the gun in the pre-game. Still, though! After being essentially a doll prepared for war by the Einzberns, Ilya was quite excited to see where this concept called 'initiative' would lead. It sounded fun!

And, okay, it totally had been for the first few days. Japan was _so different_ to Germany. For one thing, she wasn't stuck in a castle, no matter what Sella and Liz thought. Ilya could have quite happily spent a month exploring Fuyuki… if there wasn't the Grail War to look forward to. Getting out of the house and having fun around town was _awesome_ (Beaches! How cool were they? Ilya had made it a point to come to the harbour area at least once a day since she'd found it), but Ilya knew it was going to be nothing compared to the War. Her whole life had quite literally been leading up to it, and she was pretty darn impatient to get on with it.

Which was why, when she saw the obviously unnatural lightning coming from the south, and heard the roars of _something_, she'd been so excited she'd dropped her skirt in the water of the beach and beamed at Saber.

Saber hadn't wanted to get her own yukata wet, so she was standing _on top_ of the water while Ilya played in the waves, bobbing up and down with the water's motion. She didn't look like she was having as much fun as Ilya. Then again, Saber was kinda taciturn at the best of times, and there were puppies that would look grouchy next to Ilya playing at a beach.

Serious time now, though. "Hey, Saber, those were Servants, right?" Even as the Grail vessel, Ilya didn't have the ability to sense other Servants. On the other hand, when lightning came out of a clear sky and you could hear monsters battling in the distance, it didn't take a genius.

"It appears so. I suppose you wish to engage, Master?" Saber's voice was soft, as always. She gave no outward sign as to whether she would approve or disapprove of Ilya interfering. Still, Ilya could feel a sense of anticipation through the link. Saber called herself a sword, and had made it very clear that battle was her purpose.

Ilya had zero problems with that. "You bet. Let's go, Saber!" She splashed her way onto the beach and slipped on her socks and shoes. She skipped south towards New Town, Saber following at her heels.

If their duo had a weakness, it was that they couldn't move all that fast. Saber herself could turn into a nothing more than a blur of motion, but it was a martial artist's speed, not a runner's. Ilya had the body of a young-looking twelve-year-old, and until recently hadn't been getting _nearly_ enough fresh air. Between them, the best they could manage was a brisk wander.

Still, it was enough to get them into the city… and also slightly lost. As someone who'd been raised in a single building, Ilya was sort of hopeless at directions. (Another excus- that was, another reason to explore!) Saber, somehow, was even worse. She said she'd been raised on an island from the age of eight, and had only left a few months before her death.

So the strongest pair in the War had been going round in circles in the middle of the city, looking for someone to fight.

"Augh! At this rate the War will be over by the time we've found anyone!" Ilya whined. She stamped her foot on the pavement. Who knew the hardest part of the War would be actually finding people to kill? This hadn't been part of her training at all. Now that she thought about it, fourteen people with a whole city to hide in explained a lot about why Servants had been given the ability to sense each other.

"Perhaps another approach, Master?" suggested Saber. "If we simply send out a challenge, will not our foes come to duel? As warriors, they must have their pride, after all."

"I guess," Ilya said doubtfully. "I did want to make a proper entrance rather than just sort of waiting around to see who turns up… but it's better than just going home."

She looked around. She'd prefer not to fight outdoors if possible – quite apart from the risk of being seen, it was cold outside at night. Not, you know, 'on top of a German mountain' cold, but still unpleasant. She saw a building with a suitably large interior. "Oh! Let's set up in there! That… shopping mall thingy."

"Very well."

The door was locked, but, well, magus. Saber followed her inside, and they left the glass doors open behind them. There was a wide open lobby, facing onto a double row of metal stairs. Ilya thought they might have been those 'escalator' things, but they weren't moving at the moment. However, Ilya did know high ground when she saw it.

Once she was at the top, she pulled out one of her hairs, and tangled it in her hands to form a crude web. Hair was good at storing prana, everyone knew that, and the hair of an Einzbern homunculus was better still. Ilya wasn't a classic homunculus, but she could pull off the Einzbern magecraft with the best of them. She sang a quick verse in German.

"_Spiderweb, spiderweb, subtle and strong. Bring me a juicy fly, bring it to my home."_

She felt the spell take hold. The original version was designed for luring anyone that entered an area towards the caster – an invention by one of her ancestors who'd been focused on creating homunculi _backwards_, starting with living humans and creating objects. Ilya had modified it a bit, so that the attraction would scale with the target's power. Thus, normal people would simply ignore it, but magi would feel its effects more strongly. In return, the spell had a vastly improved range.

Of course, their natural od would negate the effect, making the spell almost entirely useless. As a challenge, though, it worked just fine. Ilya settled down to wait.

Before long, Saber stirred at her side. "Servants approaching. Two of them, Master."

Ilya sprang to her feet. "Really? Huh. Go me! I guess we get to finish this a little quicker, then." She didn't bother asking whether Saber would be able to handle two Servants at once. It was _Saber._

She stood at the top of the escalators, waiting for the Servants to enter. Maybe the Masters would come in as well? She tapped her foot impatiently, and fidgeted.

Eventually, she saw figures at the door. Hm, one large man, two girls, probably a little younger than she was (than she _actually_ was), and one boy of about the same- wait a minute…

"Hey! Hi, onii-chan!" Oops. She hadn't meant to say that out loud, and now her brother was staring at her in confusion. Erk.

Well, it was a good thing he was going to be dead in about five minutes.

* * *

Elsewhere.

_Very_ elsewhere, actually. The Second Magic implied alternate realities, but this place wasn't any of those. Instead it was outside, in-between. Despite that, though, it had acquired some features of reality, like a predator wearing the colours of its prey. Someone from Earth, or otherwise, might recognise features of the landscape. There were islands. There was a sea. There were plants.

However, these islands were blackened and blasted wastes rising out of an endless sea of lava, and the plants were twisted, hateful things that would occasionally lash out at anything that came close. The sky was a never-ending storm, tortured by wind and fire, which tortured the land in turn with immense lightning bolts. The very air was choked with eye-watering clouds of soot and smoke.

The land was a love letter to destruction, and change, and disaster. Nothing could live in the Deadlands, clearly.

And yet, the landscape was dotted here and there with towers, castles, mausoleums, and gatehouses. There was a certain… _spikiness_ to the aesthetic, and rotting corpses adorned the walls as gruesome decoration. Here and there, dull red glows revealed the presence of magic circles, acting as relay points, power sources, or stranger things.

In the lands where those who built the structures were remembered, it was said that not all of their kind, the daedra, were evil. Rather, they were simply predisposed to extremes. This was true, of daedra in general – but the inhabitants of _this _little pocket of hateful existence were unsatisfied with the destruction wrought daily upon this particular plane of existence. Like their lord, the dremora revelled in invading and pillaging new realms.

If only those wretched Dragonfires didn't keep them locked away from the world. No, the Dragonfires were gone now, but the liminal barriers were sealed more permanently using their essence. Now the only way to wreak havoc upon the fleshy weaklings of Mundus was to be summoned there. And that was entirely unsatisfying, as one had to follow the directions of one's summoner while manifested within Mundus. Curse whichever sorcerer had come up with the innovation of tying the conjuration and binding together…

But now there was activity within the realm. The walls and ramparts swarmed with activity. Demonic smiths beat out weapons and armour – the souls of the weakest among their kind reduced to so much raw material to strengthen the ebony metal. Officers and lords barked orders, and the churls bickered and fought. The Deadlands were preparing for war.

It had started with a couple of their weapons. Once, the armies of the Deadlands had found one or other of their swords disappearing what seemed like every day, only to reappear a few minutes later. These days, the weapon merely took on a bluish hue, as the shape and Form of the weapon was transported into Mundus.

Or, not into Mundus, as the case may be. Lately, the weapons had been going somewhere _else._ It was obvious, if you had the sense for that kind of thing. Careful inspection of the connection by the warlocks showed that the shape had been summoned into an entirely different realm. One entirely unprotected by any Dragonfires.

Not a new one, however. It had been first attacked eons ago, when whatever strange currents governed the movements of realities brought it 'close' to Oblivion. Then, it had been deemed too dangerous to assault. Now? Who knew? Time moved differently between realms, and its horrifying protector might still be alive.

Then, a stroke of luck. One of the dremora had been summoned into the world. The realm still had its guardians – he'd been defeated swiftly by a female, and bare-handed at that, for which he was being soundly flogged – but the world had moved on. From the look of the technology, the feel of the magic, the sheer scale of the city, it had been millennia since the last daedric assault. The one who'd singlehandedly pushed it back was dead and gone by now.

And so the sigil stones were being fired up again, as the armies of Mehrunes Dagon, the Daedric Prince of destruction, prepared to invade Earth.

* * *

Servant Stats (as seen by Shirou)

_Class: _Berserker

_Name: _Miki Sayaka

_Master: _Emiya Shirou

_Alignment:_ Lawful Insane

_Stats:_

Strength – C

Endurance – A+

Agility – C

Mana – C

Luck – D

Noble Phantasm – D

_Class Skills:_ Mad Enhancement: B

_Personal Skills: _?

Battle Continuation – A+. Even if a clearly fatal wound is taken, Berserker will not stop fighting until she actually dies. Pain and injury have absolutely no effect on Berserker's fighting capability.

Instinct – E. Ability to 'feel' the best course for oneself in combat. Since Berserker's style of combat is largely instinctual, Mad Enhancement does not affect her wielding skill, though tactical manoeuvres become impossible.

_Noble Phantasm:_ **Symposium Magarum ** – Berserker summons an alternate existence with unclear capabilities. This new form is many times more powerful than her usual one, is not limited by mana requirements, creates its own space similar to a Reality Marble in which physical laws are altered, and additionally does not count as a Servant and is difficult to detect even for other Servants. This Noble Phantasm also activates automatically in the case of Berserker running out of mana, and is irreversible in this case, as well as entirely uncontrollable.


	9. Chapter 9 - Caught Off Guard

The enemy Master-Servant pair was not what Rin had expected. On the other hand, her Servant could summon dragons from Hell, so what were her expectations worth any more?

Two women stood at the top of the escalators in the mall lobby, overlooking the main entrance that Rin, Shirou and their Servants had just come through. Or possibly two girls? Maybe one woman, one girl? They were both petite, in any case, one slightly more so than the other.

The shorter wore a purple coat and pillbox hat, and was white – not Caucasian, but paper-white, the palest person Rin had ever seen. Her hair was even brighter, almost silver in what little moonlight made into the mall. Her eyes were harder to see at this distance, but they seemed red. She was looking down at the group with obvious anticipation.

The other looked Japanese, and wore a white kimono with a pink hem and sash. Her hair was dark, drawn in a loose ponytail towards the end, and reached down almost to her sandalled feet. At first glance, she seemed more normal than the albino next to her, and Rin would have tentatively pegged her as the Master… but the woman's expression was almost completely dead. And not the 'hiding your emotions so as not to give anything away' kind of dead, either. This woman simply had no opinion on whether Rin should live or die. Admittedly, you got a number of magi with that attitude as well…

Which one was the Master, and which the Servant? Neither appeared to have a weapon on them. Of course, Servants could manifest theirs out of prana, but it took just enough time that having them out beforehand was a good idea. A second was an eternity in a Servant battle, after all. Rin glared up at the pair, preparing herself for any sign of the opening attack-

"Hey! Hi, onii-chan!" the white-haired girl called out happily. When the woman next to her nudged her with an elbow, she clapped her hands over her mouth in obvious embarrassment.

...it was a good thing that Rin had almost totally given up on looking refined at this point. Everyone and everything in this War seemed intent on breaking her composure.

Emiya and Caster looked at each other.

"Well, she's not _my_ sister, boy."

"Ah, is that so? I just thought, since she obviously isn't Japanese..."

Caster raised a bushy eyebrow. "I am not now, nor have I ever been, an '_onii-chan__'_. I can only assume she is talking to you."

Emiya sighed. "I was afraid that was the case." He turned back to the girl who'd called out. "Um, sorry, but I think you might have mistaken me for someone else."

The girl shook her head, her hat nearly falling off. "No, no, I haven't! Red hair, gold eyes, late teens, Master in the Holy Grail War, that's you! You're my brother, don't try to deny it!"

"I, ah, actually don't have a sister," Emiya said, looking apologetic. "Well, apart from Fuji-nee, but she hardly counts. Good luck in finding your brother, though!"

The white-haired girl looked shocked. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Eventually, she muttered, "Impossible… did he forget me that quickly?" Her eyes blazed, and locked onto Emiya. Rin reached into her pocket for a gem, because you didn't have to be an honour student to see where this one was going.

"Tell me, _Emiya Shirou_," hissed the white-haired girl. Berserker stepped in front of Emiya, sword raised and teeth bared. Only Emiya's hand on her shoulder stopped her from charging, Rin could see. The girl continued as though she hadn't noticed. "Did Kiritsugu never, not once, mention the name of the family he was hired by in the Fourth Grail War? The name of my _mother_? Von Einzbern? _Is this ringing any bells?_"

Einzbern… a homunculus, then, that would explain the albinism. Which would make the pitiless woman beside her the Servant. Rin switched her attention from the Einzbern girl.

_Caster, _she sent. _The woman in the kimono is the Servant. I don't see a weapon, which would usually make me think Caster, but it's possible she has some __A__ssassin's trick._

_Agreed. Likely she __won't want to attack two Servants at once, if that is the case. Still, I would not want to be that boy after tonight. He's slept his last comfortable night's sleep, I'd wager._

The Einzbern girl was still ranting. "Nothing?" she shouted. "_Fine!_ Well, you can convey my displeasure with our father when you see him in Hell! _Kill them all, Saber!"_

Beside her, Rin felt the rush of air and vibration in the ground that told her Caster had moved. Berserker's scream of rage told her that the blue Servant had done the same. She could hardly see them close in on Saber, they were just a couple of blurs-

Wait. Saber?

There was an explosion in mid-air, just above the top of the escalators. Rin had just enough time to register that Saber had moved at the last second before seeing her Servant slam against the wall on her left side, forty feet way. Across the lobby, Berserker crashed into a display window, travelling straight through and landing in a pile of clothes. Saber alighted on the railing between the escalators, hands at her sides. She still held no weapon.

"Oh, dear," she said, voice soft. "And I'd gotten all excited, too. Is this really the best two heroes can offer?"

On the side of the room, Caster pulled himself to his feet and readied that triangular sword of his. He wasn't smiling, not at all. _Caster? What was that? __Did she draw her sword?_ Rin sent.

_I_…_ I don't know, Master._ Caster's mental voice was grim. _Let me try that again._

A feral shriek erupted from the shop Berserker had been thrown into. As soon as she'd regained her footing, she exploded forward again, barrelling through the displays like a blue missile. Caster wasn't about to waste the opportunity, and matched her charge with one of his own. This time, Rin was prepared, and tried her best to follow the action. Caster moved like sped-up film, and Berserker was faster even than that, but she kept her eyes peeled.

She still nearly missed it. Caster and Berserker had almost closed on Saber when she _moved_. The Servant in white leant back ever so slightly, and both blades missed their mark. Then _something_ happened with her right arm, and Caster slammed into the floor so hard the brickwork cracked.

Berserker screamed in fury, and let loose a flurry of blows so intense that Rin simply gave up on trying to follow them. In response, Saber… flickered.

It was like watching a wooden ruler held over the edge of a desk, bent back, and released. (Perfect student Rin hadn't engaged in such foolishness, obviously, but she'd seen it done.) The ruler would vibrate back and forth so fast it appeared to be in two places at once, almost transparent at any given point. That was how Saber moved. Every single one of Berserker's blows hit only air.

Neither of the two Servants lost their balance, for all that they were fighting on the escalator railing, half a foot wide at most. Berserker stepped as surely as a cat, every lunge and twist bringing out the maximum force to her blows. In heels, for God's sake! But if Berserker was a cat, Saber was a ghost. She seemed weightless, her image wavering like an old film reel. Berserker might as well have been trying to cut a mirage.

After a few seconds, when it became obvious Berserker wasn't going to stop, Saber lashed out. Berserker hit the floor just like Caster had, her limbs crumpled like a crushed bug. Saber settled back down on the escalator railing again, serenely still. Above them, the Einzbern doll giggled with childlike cruelty.

Two Servants, taken out in less time than it took to tell it. Saber hadn't even been touched, as far as Rin could see. Rin had wondered, watching Caster and Berserker fight earlier that night, if Saber was really all that powerful – both of them were so fast, so skilled, that she couldn't imagine anyone beating either in close combat. Turned out she really needed to readjust her scale.

Rin really, really wanted to leave right now. Just nope the hell out of there with Caster and let someone, anyone else deal with the most outstanding Servant. Heck, it was the strategic thing to do, even. Having seen five out of the seven Servants, Rin felt confident in saying that Saber wouldn't lose to anyone. As expected of the Servant of the Sword. Caster would come back stronger, with more tricks up his sleeve, and Saber would take out, well, pretty much the rest of the competition singlehandedly.

Starting with Emiya. Rin risked a glance at her classmate. He was staring, wide-eyed, at Saber. He seemed almost hypnotised. Jeez, he really wasn't ready for any of this. It was only to be expected. Even if he was a magus – a very poor, pathetic, harmless sort of magus – he was still a kid. Rin couldn't expect him to adjust instantly to the War she'd gotten him dragged into. But Saber wouldn't care about that. If Rin left, Emiya would die, simple as that.

Oh, to hell with it all, then. If two Servants working together couldn't take out Saber then she might as well give up anyway.

_Caster! How long are you going to lie there? _Rin thought urgently._ We need a plan, stat!_

Her Servant gave a pained mental groan. _Run away? Some Servants have their pride and refuse to show their back to a foe. I am not one of them. Really, girl, there's no shame in regrouping to form a plan._ Rin saw him twitch. _Ribs broken, internal bleeding, if I'm any judge__..._

Rin's eyes flicked sideways. _Yes, well, Berserker got the same and you don't see _her_ complaining._

The blue servant was already dragging herself to her feet, although one arm still seemed to be bending the wrong way and the other shoulder dangled loosely. As Rin watched, she snapped her broken arm back into position and wrenched her shoulder joint until it reset. She wasn't screaming any more. Instead, her mouth was set in a sick grin, and her eyes were wide and staring.

Saber regarded her as one would a mildly interesting insect. "Self-healing… I suppose in this case that would be Battle Continuation, yes? That's good… or perhaps it's bad?" Her sleeve came up to cover her mouth, but it didn't quite hide the psychotic smirk Saber wore. It was the first sign of emotion she'd showed in the entire encounter. "Tenacity will do you no favours, Berserker. All it will do is draw out your pain."

Berserker flung a sword without warning. Saber batted it away like she was shooing away a fly, passive expression firmly back in place. By the time it connected, Berserker was halfway towards Saber, another cutlass readied. Her flurry of attacks was no less vicious, and no more effective. The white Servant sighed, and began flickering through the onslaught again.

"So rude," Saber said. She didn't break stride. "In my day warriors talked before a battle, and got the measure of one another. I was hardly one to observe formalities, but it might have been interesting to exchange words with other heroes. I only ever met the one, you see." For all the concern in her voice, she may as well have been walking in a light rain, rather than letting the Servant of Madness attack her in a wild flurry.

"Exchange words, is it?" came Caster's voice. He'd managed to rise to his feet. "I have a few for you." Rin realised just in time what was about to happen, and just barely clapped her hands over her ears in time.

**/FUS/ /RO/ /DAH/**

A wave of barely-visible force surged out of Caster's mouth. It slammed up into the dueling Servants, and them them flying. Berserker tumbled across the floor on the upper level, and once more disappeared into a shop. Saber was caught full-on, and flew like a soap bubble in a hurricane.

...too much like a soap bubble. She spiralled up and out of the path of Caster's Shout, before sinking to the floor with unnatural slowness. Her head tilted, and her eyes sought Caster's.

"Now that _was_ interesting. And to send warriors flying with mere words, you must be Caster, am I right?"

Caster grinned confidently. If Rin hadn't been exposed to the real thing more than enough over the past few days, she might have even believed it. "Who knows?"

You_ know!_ Rin sent immediately. _This is no time for your games!_

"...okay, I'm Caster. **Eternal Quester.**" A familiar shimmer, and Caster was dressed in furred robes, a hood and blued metal mask covering his face. Fire and snow danced in his fingers. "I suppose I should start taking this War seriously at some point, after all."

Without warning, a fireball shot from his palm. Saber's eyes widened in something like surprise, but she avoided the attack as easily as any other, and it exploded against the far wall. When she regained her position, a pair of arrow-like icicles were streaking towards her. Each was struck out of the air. No sooner had Saber done so than a purple bolt of lightning struck her hand.

Saber. Was struck.

Admittedly, she didn't seem actually hurt. She shook it as if to get rid of pins and needles, and glanced at Caster. Rin couldn't see his face under the mask, but she was willing to bet he looked smug.

"Not quite so easy to dodge lightning, yes?" Caster flicked his wrists, and an indigo vortex swirled in each palm. "Let's make things a little trickier." Both vortices swirled outwards into nothingness. A moment later, twin spheres of purple fire expanded on the second floor of the mall – portals to nowhere. Portals to hell, or wherever Caster got his familiars.

When they faded, they revealed… golems? It looked like several chunks of rock had formed a man-shaped cloud, with blue electricity running between the fragments. Tendrils of electricity snaked out to strike anything nearby. One formed between Rin and Saber and raised a crackling limb. A searing bolt of lightning scorched the air between the golem and the Servant.

When it faded, Saber was gone. By now, though, Rin knew better than to expect that that had killed her. She'd expected Saber to dodge by inches, though, as she had for every other attack thrown at her. Instead, she was over the other side of the lobby's second floor, and Rin saw why.

The other lightning golem was right next to the Einzbern Master. The girl had time to flinch backwards… and then Saber was there.

The golem _disintegrated _under the force of the Servant's assault. She stood in a cloud of dust, which was already fading back into purple fire.

"Are you well, Ilyasviel?"

"Yeah, of course," the Einzbern, Ilyasviel apparently, replied. "You're here, aren't you?" She readjusted her coat and turned to face Rin and Emiya. "Getting Masters involved in a Servant battle, Tohsaka? I'm game if you are. But I warn you, Saber is the strongest. Don't think your silly Caster is going to protect you if she's serious about killing you."

Rin gulped. Yeah, with Saber's power, there wasn't much of anything Caster could do to stop her. "Caster. No going after the Master." Maybe she'd been spending too much time with the man, but even masked she could _feel_ his eyes rolling. "_Not a word,_ please. Emiya and I should be enough for one brat."

"Very well," Caster replied. "A division of forces, then? The Masters on the upper level, and us Servants on the lower."

Ilyasviel shrugged. "I have no problem with it. It doesn't matter to me where Saber kills you."

With a small hop, Saber glided down to land lightly on the ground floor, at the very bottom of the escalator. There, she assumed the same relaxed stance she had held before, arms at her sides.

Rin took an uncertain step forward. To reach Ilyasviel, she would have to go straight past Saber. She glanced at Caster. Lightning crackled between his fingers once more. From where he was standing, he had a clear shot on the Einzbern Master. "Go, Master, boy," he rumbled. "I will cover you."

"Got it. Emiya, let's go." He seemed oddly reluctant, and was still staring at Saber. Had he frozen in shock? Well, he'd had a hard night, she supposed. Rin grabbed his arm and dragged him.

Together, they hurried towards the escalator, and towards Saber. Rin made to move past as quickly as possible, but felt a tug. Emiya had stopped, right in front of Saber. What on earth was he doing?"

The white Servant looked up into Emiya's pale face. This close, Rin could see how strange her eyes were. Purple irises, taking up almost the entire eye – but white pupils. How did that work? Ugh, whatever, this wasn't the time. She tugged on Emiya's arm again, but froze when Saber spoke.

"Yes, boy? You had a question?"

Emiya opened his mouth, then closed it. Eventually he said, "Your sword..."

"Hm?"

"You're Saber, so you should have a sword, right? It looks like you're missing one, but… you're not, are you?" His voice was hesitant and halting, but he didn't sound uncertain. It was more like he was asking for confirmation of something he already knew.

To her surprise, Saber smiled faintly. "Oh? You must have good eyes, boy. And where is it that you think I am hiding my sword?"

Emiya blinked. "It's..." Whatever he was about to say next was interrupted by a steel flash. Rin felt something hum past her ear, and instinctively turned her head. So she was just in time to see Berserker hit the floor where Saber had been standing with the force of a bomb. In the instant before Rin turned to run, she saw the expression of unholy fury and madness on the blue Servant's face.

"Emiya, flirt with Saber later, time to go!" Rin heaved with all her might, and _finally_ Emiya followed her up the escalator. When they reached the relative safety of the top, she turned, and for the second time that night saw a three-Servant battle with her own eyes.

Berserker was a whirl of white and blue and silver. Her stream of attacks never let up, not for a single instant. It was the same flurry she'd used on Caster, the style that chained an endless series of blows – but even faster somehow, limbs a blur. She was toe-to-toe with Saber. Always advancing, never taking even a single step back. To do so would be to break off the attack, and that was simply unacceptable.

Caster had taken a different approach. Or rather, he was taking _every_ approach. Spells flew from his fingers like sparks from a Roman Candle. Fireballs, lightning strikes, icicles, balls of coloured light that Rin couldn't begin to guess the purpose of.

**/MID/**

And he was Shouting. Rin wasn't sure what this one did – but she could guess. At Caster's Shout, Berserker's attacks, already too fast to see, went into overdrive. The sound of blades slicing the air became nothing more than a whirr, like an industrial turbine had decided to attack someone.

Every so often Caster would summon something – another of his lightning golems, the demon he'd used against the Enforcer earlier that night, skeletons clutching ancient weapons. Like Berserker, their attacks seemed sped up somehow, although the blue Servant was by far the faster. As fast as they were summoned, they shambled into the fray.

As fast as they were summoned, they were cut down without mercy.

Berserker was advancing, but she wasn't dictating the fight. Everyone said it – Saber was the most outstanding Servant. Only death awaited those who would challenge such a foe in close combat. Berserker was in the depths of Mad Enhancement, her sanity sacrificed for sheer power. Caster's Shout placed her above even that.

And Saber was _still_ faster. _Still_ stronger. Could _still_ read Berserker's every move as though she'd been told about it in advance.

Saber punished the blue Servant with impossible, too-fast strikes, their passage only visible by the hideous wounds opening up in their wake. Every cut was gone in moments.

Whenever one of Caster's more direct attacks flew in to strike her, always with deadly accuracy, somehow Saber would always contrive to be behind Berserker. As Rin watched Caster unleashed a torrent of flame like a flamethrower, only for Saber to spin Berserker into its path. The Servant of Madness fought on as if she hadn't even felt it, and her skin healed before Rin's eyes.

That was the monster known as Berserker. She wouldn't stop, wouldn't fall, refused to die until her opponent had succumbed through sheer exhaustion. Easier to fight a boulder than defeat Berserker through strength alone. Easier to knock out a tree.

… but if anyone could, Saber might.

A red rune circle appeared on the floor just where Saber was about to take a step. When the sandalled foot landed, it exploded with a rush of flame, but Saber emerged unscathed and struck Berserker a blow that sent the younger Servant spinning into the air.

Caster's head snapped round to follow her.

**/TIID/ /KLO/ /UL/**

Rin had heard a few Shouts by now. They often sounded distorted, but none in quite the same way. This one, however, was the oddest yet. It almost felt slowed-down, like a tape recording played at half-speed – except it came out in a rushed blur, as if it had been sped up instead.

And Caster went into hyperdrive.

His hands moved like… well, Rin had no comparison. His hands moved like _Saber_ did. About ten pale green spells shot out to impact Berserker in mid-air. Two ice-blue runes appeared under Saber's feet. Three blizzards appeared from nowhere and coated the entire battle floor in ice. Rin counted at least six icicles fly towards Saber.

And, with a mutter of "**eternalquester**", Caster himself charged the Servant of the Sword, dressed in his armour once more and wielding a pair of daggers.

In mid-air still, Berserker seemed to be unaffected by Caster's spells. Instead, she reached beneath her cloak and flung no less than thirty cutlasses point-first into the floor. None was aimed at Saber, but stuck out of the ice like a bizarre frozen graveyard. Berserker made a perfect landing on one of the hilts.

Rin nodded. Caster had no problem with ice, given his homeland, and Berserker had just created her own footing. Saber, on the other hand, had to pay attention to her balance. With the two other Servants pressing her in close combat, she might just slip up and present an opportunity. It was a good plan. The strange part was, it was a _good plan_.

How on earth did Caster anticipate his erstwhile ally's reactions? It was already irregular enough for Berserker to keep any semblance of fighting skill when under Mad Enhancement – and even then, tactical manoeuvres should become impossible. So how did Berserker manage to-

Ah, right. Caster's spells. Somehow, they'd managed to break the blue Servant out of her Mad Enhancement – or at least calm her down enough that she could cotton on to Caster's plan. And even then, Caster himself would need to be fast enough to set up the stage!

Yeah, at this point Rin just accepted that she was never going to stop being surprised by Servant battles. The skill, the speed, the precision, the high-speed tactics, all of it was beyond her. There wasn't a magus alive that could have lasted for a minute against the flurry Caster and Berserker had just pulled off.

Which was why it was really depressing that Saber was _still managing to keep up_.

She had – she _had_ – slowed down on the ice, relying more on body motion to dodge Caster's daggers and skull-crushing blows from Berserker. But still nothing touched her. Every blow was anticipated. Every step was matched. When Saber attacked back – and Rin _still_ couldn't see what she was using as her weapon – it connected viciously every time.

Rin honestly wasn't sure if Saber was even a proper Servant, and not some Divine Spirit of invincibility and unfairness.

"Impressive, aren't they?" came a voice from behind her. Rin turned. Ilyasviel curtseyed. "From one founding family to another, welcome to the Grail War. I mean, it's a shame since Saber's going to kill you all in a bit, but still, welcome."

Rin raised an eyebrow. "Getting cocky, brat? Caster's only just getting started. He's capable of a lot more than this." At least she goddamn hoped he was, or she really would die. "And Berserker hasn't even used her Noble Phantasm. Okay, your Saber hasn't, either… hasn't even drawn it, in fact. I knew the Einzberns had fallen on hard times recently, but are you telling me you can't even afford to equip your Servant?"

Ilyasviel, watching the carnage below, giggled. "I'll let that slide, Rin, but only because I know you're even less well-off than we are at the moment. But, you're wrong about Saber's Noble Phantasm."

"She's been using it this whole time, hasn't she?" Emiya put in, unexpectedly. "I thought she hadn't summoned it yet and was just strong enough to fight without it, but that's not right. It was obvious just by looking."

Was it? Rin hadn't seen anything of the sort. "An… invisible sword? Odd, but I can see how that would be an advantage..." Ilyasviel and, to her annoyance, Emiya were shaking their heads.

Hmph. Well, screw them both, if that broken-ass Saber wanted to fight barehanded then she wasn't complaining. She was far, far too tired at this point to look a gift-horse in the mouth. "You know what, I don't care," she decided. "Care to get this show on the road, Einzbern?" She readied her gems.

"Wait," said Emiya. "Before that… look, Miss Einzbern-"

"Call me Ilya! You're my onii-chan, so I'll allow it," said the Einzbern girl graciously.

"… Ilya, then. Ilya, I don't know what kind of relationship you had with Dad, or why he left. All I know is, if you really are my sister, then we shouldn't fight. Dad would have wanted to save everyone from this mess, if he could."

Ilya scowled, her good mood wiped out. "If you think that, then you don't know our father at all. Stop being silly, onii-chan! It's a War, so fight!"

Emiya spread his hands. "Even if I wanted to, I don't have a weapon. I'm not Saber, so how do you expect me to do battle without a sword?"

"Hmm." Ilya put a finger to her lips in thought. "Ah! Onii-chan, your Servant summons swords, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

Ilya nodded. "So she won't mind if we borrow one. Good. Saber!" she called. "Onii-chan needs a sword! Throw one of Berserker's up here, please!"

There was a thud and a yelp from down below. "HEY! Get your hands off my-"

_Whoosh. Twang._

Emiya stepped back very carefully from the sword buried point first at his feet, and gingerly took the handle. Had he been in the kendo club at one point before taking archery? Gah, Rin couldn't remember. He looked like he knew what he was doing, at least.

A gem held in each hand, Rin prepared to fight.

* * *

Sayaka's cutlass wasn't really meant to be used in a kendo stance. It was too short, for one thing, and wasn't quite as curved. It was only natural – cutlasses, as far as Shirou could remember, were adapted from the longer sabres for use on ships, where space was tight, and made up for their shorter range with added thickness, ideal for chopping through ropes. Given Berserker's apparent affinity for water (given her mermaid Noble Phantasm) and nature as a Servant that sacrificed finesse for raw power, it was a more appropriate weapon than it appeared at first glance.

One the other hand, Shirou had no idea about Western fencing, so he was going to have to rely on what little kendo he remembered from his father and Taiga. He held the sword uncertainly in front of him. It looked very sharp.

Ilya seemed to notice his hesitation, and giggled. "Still not going to attack, onii-chan? Or were you waiting for me to make the first move? How gentlemanly of you!" She reached up and plucked two hairs from her head. "Since there are two of you, I'll give you two opponents to play with. That's fair."

Of their own accord, the hairs twisted and snaked around themselves, forming something like wireframe models of birds. When Ilya raised her hands, they flew all by themselves, glowing silver. They were almost beautiful.

Until they fired silver bolts of energy that blew fist-sized holes in the wall behind them. That wasn't beautiful at _all_.

"Einzbern familiars..." muttered Tohsaka. "Emiya! They might be strengthened by magecraft, but they're still hair – Berserker's sword should be able to cut them!"

"R-right!" Shirou charged, and swung. The bird flew out of reach, and fired another blast at him. It was intercepted by a red streak from Tohsaka, and the explosion ruffled his hair.

"I'll handle defence, you take them out! I'll cover you!"

Shirou swung again, and again. The familiars were fast, and hard to hit, and kept on firing at him. All he could do was trust that Tohsaka's aim was better than his. It seemed like it was, since every silver blast was countered by a red one, so he just kept on fighting. Eventually he managed to catch one square on the breast. Just as Tohsaka had said, it was sheared in half, and fell to the floor as lifeless hair.

The other bird dive bombed him, and he hacked at it in a panic. Just before he connected, however, it flew apart on its own, and formed a long wire that wrapped itself round his neck. Blood pounded in Shirou's head, and he knew that he had only seconds before he passed out.

"Emiya!" came Tohsaka's voice from behind him. "I can't get a clear shot without hitting you – you'll have to cut it off!"

Cut it off? Shirou was less than happy with that plan. Sayaka's cutlass wasn't exactly a precision instrument. He was running out of air, and he couldn't even _see_ the wire to cut it – there!

He swung madly in the direction he'd seen a silver flash. He felt a brief resistance – and then the hair fell away from his neck, only hair again. He swayed on his feet, gasping for breath.

"Oh, well done!" cheered Ilya. "You fended them off! Good for you, onii-chan!" She flicked her palms, and four more birds rose up to hover at her shoulders.

Now that he was looking for it, Shirou could see the hair that connected the familiars to Ilya. He gripped his sword tighter.

"_Degenform_."

The birds changed shape, just as the last one had. These, however, formed…

"Swords..." Shirou breathed.

"That's right," smiled Ilya. "Rin over there is hanging back and casting spells like a Caster, and you're charging in without a care like a Berserker, so I thought it'd be appropriate. Off we go!"

The swords shot forward, one by one.

One went straight for Tohsaka, who somehow created an emerald shield that deflected it enough that she was unharmed.

One shot towards Shirou, but he dodged, rolling sideways to impact painfully with the railing. Down below him, the Servants carried on their insane duel.

One was aimed directly for his heart. With all his strength, Shirou swept the cutlass sideways in a parry. It felt like trying to block a speeding car… but he forced it to the side just in time.

Only for the cutlass to break in his hands.

That left one more sword, floating serenely above Ilya's shoulders. "Ah, well," she said, shaking her head. "I hoped you might put up a better fight. _Degen_ might have been too much… goodbye, onii-chan."

As if in slow motion, Shirou watched the last sword fire. Shirou made to dodge, to roll sideways.

Only to find his legs bound fast. The swords he'd dealt with – they'd reformed themselves and held his ankles fast to the floor! He couldn't dodge. He had no weapon.

Well, so what? So what if he didn't have a weapon? Saber didn't have one either, and was currently beating Sayaka and Caster senseless with her bare hands. Sure, he was no Servant. But all he had to deal with was one little sword. He didn't need her strength, or speed. All he needed was… her style. Her technique. Her hidden sword.

He could copy that, couldn't he?

One palm thrust straight out. The edge of his hand lightly batted away the flat of the oncoming sword. It shot past him and onto the lower floor.

"What?!" Ilya yelped.

Shirou breathed out and completed the movement back to a sort of guard position, one hand straight out and the other held at his hip, both palms forward.

Then he began convulsing. His nerves felt like they were burning. It was like when he made his magic circuit, but about twenty times worse! What was going on? Through the pain, he saw Ilya, preparing another set of familiars, and tried to focus.

"That will be enough for tonight. Come, Ilya. It is time you were in bed."

Saber had appeared in front of Ilya. The girl looked at her Servant, confused. "Saber? What are you doing?"

"We ought not to be fighting. The War has not officially started yet, after all. You can afford to leave your revenge for now."

Ilya grumbled, but let her familiars fade. "If Saber says so, then I guess we'll leave it there. But, onii-chan! You'd better prepare yourself, because we're not through just yet!"

Saber turned Ilya around and began to hustle her towards the escalators, and the exit. "Caster, Berserker, a good effort. Or perhaps it was a bad one. You will need to do much, much better if you are to kill me. On the other hand..." he gaze turned to Shirou, who gulped.

"That was a good first attempt, boy. I expect you to have made progress when next we meet. Until then."

The pair left the scene of battle. Neither Caster or Berserker accosted them as they went, although Sayaka apparently couldn't help but snarl at Saber as she passed.

When they were gone, Caster visibly relaxed, although Sayaka still seemed on edge from the presence of the other Servant nearby. Shirou and Tohsaka went to rejoin them in the lobby, which looked as though a full-scale war had been fought in it – which, technically, it kind of had. There was debris everywhere, nothing that had been nailed down was in its original position, the floor was still partly iced over, and there were pits and gouges all over the tilework.

As they approached, Sayaka went straight over to Shirou, and made a show of inspecting him for wounds.

"You okay, Shirou? I feel bad that you had to defend yourself. Makes me feel like I haven't done my job as a Servant, you know?"

Shirou smiled and ruffled her hair, getting a snarl of his own from his Servant. He was getting used to Berserker's exaggerated expressions by now. He took it as a pout. "That's my line, Sayaka. You were fighting such a monster, and I couldn't do a single thing to help. You were getting so hurt, too… I'm sorry I wasn't able to take some of the strain."

"No, no! I'm fine, see?" Sayaka struck a heroic pose. "The type of girl to take a licking and keep on ticking, that's me! But, ah, yeah, Saber kinda kicked my ass," she added, embarrassed. "If it wasn't for Mr Ridiculous over here, I wouldn't even have done as well as I did. So, thanks, I guess, Caster."

They turned to the other Master-Servant pair. There was something of an awkward pause.

"Well," the blond Servant said, at length. "I don't think any of us were expecting _that_."

"You can say that again," Tohsaka said, voice shaking slightly. "If I'd known that was what a Saber was capable of I'd have tried harder to get one. No offence, Caster."

"After my performance, none taken. Accursed magic resistance… I could deal no damage from afar, and up close I felt like a novice swordsman again. Master, we will need to prepare _extensively_ if we are to have a chance against her. And… we will probably need some help."

"Yeah. Yeah, I agree." Tohsaka looked at Shirou. "Well? How about it?"

Shirou tilted his head. "How about what?"

Tohsaka crossed her arms and turned her head. "Geez, you're going to make me say it, aren't you? An alliance. I'm talking about formally teaming up for the War." She looked at him, then tossed her hair angrily. "It'll only be until Saber is defeated! But, you know, since we already know each other, and since we have an idea of how our Servants work together, I could probably work better with you than with anyone else at this point." Were her ears red?

"I agree," put in Caster. "Our styles complement each other perfectly, Berserker. You will be the front-line fighter, taking whatever the other Servants can deal out with your admirable resilience. I can support from behind, with spells or summons or Shouts, or whatever might be appropriate. Saber may have emerged unscathed, but from what we have seen of the other Servants in this War few would be able to stand against such a setup. What say you?"

Shirou and Sayaka looked at each other. Sayaka spoke first. "Well, you already know I'm gonna have problems co-operating with other Servants. Really, the best you can hope for is to point be at an enemy and get out of my way most of the time. Come to think of it, how did you break me out of Mad Enhancement like that?" she asked Caster.

The blond Servant shrugged. "Calm spells. The Berserker class doesn't come with magic resistance, thankfully."

"Creepy. Well, that's something I guess. I might be able to pull off limited teamwork if it's with him… although I still don't like you."

That was probably understandable, considering Sayaka's first act in the War had been to save Shirou from Caster. Considering her class, it was probably pretty impressive that she was holding off on just attacking him right now. Then again, 'impressive' had rather taken on a different meaning since this evening.

Heroes, monsters, magic the likes of which he thought he'd never see… and him, Emiya Shirou, in the middle of it all. What a mess. He was supposed to be the one to save everyone, but he felt awfully weak compared to everyone else. The image of Sayaka, her chest cut open by Saber's hand, flashed in his mind again.

That shouldn't happen. It didn't matter if she said she was fine now, it had to hurt. If his reluctance to get involved directly meant Sayaka had to go through that, then he would take this War seriously. At the moment, that meant seriously considering taking Tohsaka's offer.

… ideally, he'd spare Tohsaka from having to fight as well, but she would probably kick his ass for saying so, so that was kinda counterproductive.

From a pragmatic standpoint, too, Saber was too strong to fight alone. If he wanted to defeat her, his best chance was to team up. Maybe Caster had some spell that would help him fight?

"Alright," he said. "I agree, it's better if we team up. It looks like I'll be in your care a little longer, Tohsaka. I'll make sure to repay you somehow." He bowed deeply.

Tohsaka definitely did go a bit red then. Well, it was a bit embarrassing, he supposed. "Idiot. It's my fault for attacking you and getting you involved in the first place. I'd feel bad if I didn't take responsibility." She broke off, and yawned massively.

Shirou realised how tired he was as well. What time even was it? Late – almost midnight, it had to be. And it was a school night, as well. Fighting a War took its toll on a person, it turned out, and Shirou wanted nothing more than to sleep for thirty-six hours straight, but that would just make Sakura and Taiga worry. He yawned himself.

"We'd probably better head back home, huh? I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Yeah. Four Servant battles is way too many for one night. Meet me on the school roof at lunchtime, Emiya. We'll discuss plans for the War then. In the meantime, have Berserker fill you in on anything you need to know."

"Will do. See you then, Rin." He made to leave, before his brain caught up with what he'd said. He glanced nervously back at his classmate. She seemed to be smiling, which was good.

"That's Tohsaka to you..." Or maybe it was bad. "… Shirou."

Or maybe girls were just a freaking mystery like usual.

* * *

He appeared in an alley. Trash and dirt surrounded him, but the summoning circle was clean and precise. Rat's blood, judging by the corpses nearby.

Here it was, the living world again. Round about his own time, too, judging by the surroundings. The buildings loomed up high above, and the cars just visible through the gap looked about what he'd expect from his time. Yeah, he was familiar with this time. That would help.

He smiled gently at his summoner. "Hi there. I'm Servant Assassin. You're my Master, huh?"

The girl had put on a smooth, expressionless facade. It was a good one. A casual observer would have said the girl was unruffled and stoic. But Assassin was good at reading people, and his Master's shock at actually having the ritual go right was clear.

She was young. _Really_ young. Far too young to be fighting in something like the Holy Grail War, honestly. Assassin supposed he was being a bit hypocritical there. Even so, he'd at least been in middle school before killing for the first time. This girl was no older than ten. Her hair was mostly shoulder-length, with a longer bit at the back done in a ponytail and two locks escaping to hang to the bottom of her chin. Unremarkable brown eyes watched Assassin warily, as if unsure whether he was real.

If she was scared, that was no problem. Assassin had had to deal with nervous children often enough, after all. He started to lean down to her level instinctively, but stopped when he realised that he was barely any taller than she was. Dammit, had the summoning reverted him to the age he was when he made his most famous kill? He looked down and as he expected saw a school uniform – waistcoat and cargo trousers. He sighed, and tried again, smiling and keeping eye contact. "You did well. What's your name?"

The girl spoke for the first time. "Miyu. Miyu Sakatsuki." Her voice was soft, and without inflection.

"Hi, Miyu. Why are we in an alley? You don't have a space to do this at home?"

"I don't have a home." The reply came quickly. Miyu didn't seem particularly upset about the fact. It was just the way things were.

Assassin looked again. Miyu's clothes looked dirty, and frayed in places. She'd been wearing them for a while. They were warmer than the weather warranted as well, or would have been if they hadn't been riddled through with holes.

Hm. "So, what now?"

"I'm… not sure. Even though I received the Command Seals, I didn't expect the ritual to actually work. I guess if we're having to fight a War we'll need at least a base to work from. I'm a weak magus, so I can't fortify our position well. Because of that, we'll probably have to keep moving often, and remain hard to detect or predict. As an Assassin, this should suit your style as well, right?"

Even if she said she hadn't expected results, she'd thought it through. This just might work. "Turning a weakness into a strength, huh? I guess it wasn't just chance that had you summon me. I approve, of course. Did you have somewhere in mind?"

Miyu nodded. "There was somewhere that would work, but I didn't feel safe going there by myself. Now I have a Servant, it should be no problem."

"Lead the way, then."

The two made their way through the maze of alleys and back streets. Assassin materialised. Partly it was nice to be in the world again, and partly people were less likely to accost two children than one girl walking alone. Although it was late, there were still a few people wandering around – clubgoers, drunks, a few more shady-looking characters, and very occasionally a cop or two.

"Here." Miyu pointed at a small house, covered in graffiti. There were a few hard-looking men loitering around the back gate, drinking from bottles and smoking. "It's the hangout of a local gang. I've been chased off a few times by them. As far as I know they're not involved with organised crime, they're just a bunch of lowlifes. I don't think anyone would come looking for them."

So he had a target already? Fair enough. Not quite the kind of person he was used to taking out… but it wouldn't hurt to keep his hand in.

"It'll do for a start. Wait here, Miyu. I'll get you when I'm done." Assassin astralised and hopped over the fence.

Assassin hadn't been summoned with his own weapons, apart from a rubber knife and a handgun that only fired rubber pellets. Fortunately, he was a Servant and didn't need that kind of thing. He hadn't been strong in life, hadn't been all that famous except in the right circles, and had almost no history behind him.

This meant that his strength was as low as the Grail would possibly allow, a pitiful ten times the human maximum.

When he was done, he went through the clothes on the corpses. No guns, unfortunately, but a couple had some locking knives. That would do.

There was only one other man inside the house, busy weighing up a stash of white powder. Assassin approached silently.

… it was kind of unfair how easy it was to kill someone when you could turn invisible and intangible whenever you wanted.

Assassin returned to Miyu within about two minutes, and said, "All clear. Come inside, it's getting cold. Watch your step."

The living room had a kotatsu, which Assassin wouldn't have expected from a place like this. Then again, gang members probably got cold too. There were a couple getting cold just outside, actually. Hehe. Miyu went straight for it, and snuggled up under the blanket. Assassin settled down on the other side.

"There's not a lot of food in the fridge, but the leader had a fair bit of cash stored away. The drugs might fetch a little more as well, but I wouldn't really know anything about that. It's probably better not to get involved in that kind of stuff anyway, if we're trying to keep a low profile. Ah, on that subject, is there anywhere nearby to dispose of the bodies, Miyu?"

"Mmm… the river, I think. I can show you-"

Assassin waved a hand. "Ah, no, it's fine. I'll find it myself later. We should probably draw up a list of things we need to do and acquire at some point. Until then, did you have a basic strategy in mind as to how you wanted to carry on with the War?"

"Not really," Miyu said with a yawn. "I wasn't sure as to which Servant I would get. Since it's you, Assassin, we'll have to do a bit more work, I guess. Like I said, I'm a weak magus, so you should be a weak Servant too."

"That's right," Assassin said. There was no point in denying it, it was just true. "That's the nature of an assassin, after all – being weak, while aiming at the necks of the strong. I like to think it makes me careful. And, of course, the Grail War helpfully gives every Servant one massive vulnerable point."

"What's that?" Miyu mumbled, lying down and curling up. Jeez, she was almost falling asleep. She gave a muffled sound of protest when Assassin reached over and poked her on the nose.

"You, of course. Our Masters. It doesn't matter how strong a Servant is, it's almost irrelevant. All I need to worry about is the Master. The Grail doesn't award prizes for fighting well, it only cares who's left alive at the end. In that respect, it seems like the Assassin class is the only one that knows what it's doing..." Assassin trailed off when he heard the snores from his Master.

How long had it been since she'd last slept indoors? She was totally crashed out.

Well, no time to sit around. The house definitely wasn't fit for a kid to live in – there was trash and mess everywhere, the air reeked of cigarettes, and it was far too dark. Also, there were corpses all over the place, but that was his bad. Time to clean up.

Assassin pulled his blue hair into the wing-like shapes he'd left behind when he graduated middle school, and got to work.

* * *

Servant Stats (as seen by Rin)

_Class:_ Saber

_Name: _?

_Master: _Ilyasviel von Einzbern

_Alignment:_ Neutral Evil

_Stats:_

Strength – A+

Endurance – A

Agility – A+

Mana – C

Luck – C

Noble Phantasm – A

_Class Skills:_ Magic Resistance C, Riding D

_Personal Skills: _?

Mind's Eye (Fake) – A+. At this level, Saber can discern any mysteries in a fighting style simply by seeing a user take a stance.

?

_Noble Phantasm: _?


	10. Chapter 10 - During the Dead of Night

Rin opened the gate onto her family's property, and almost collapsed through it. Only a heavy hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Whoops. Careful there, Master."

"I'm-" Rin yawned, "I'm fine, Caster. Just tired." Boy, was she ever. Her feet ached in her flats, she couldn't stop yawning, and focusing on anything much more complicated than crossing a road for more than five seconds was beyond her. Four Servant attacks in a single night was about three and a half too many. If another one had gotten between her and her bed, she'd have… well, she couldn't even come up with a horrible enough punishment, that was how tired she was.

"Mind the step, Master."

Caster helped her up through the front door, and she kicked off her shoes. Had she given him a copy of the front door key? Forward-thinking of her, if so. In fact Caster had been pretty darn efficient tonight, all told. He didn't even seem all that tired, despite the sound thrashing Saber had given him. Bastard.

Well, maybe her Servant was a tireless machine of murder and magic, but Rin wasn't. She stumbled past the living room, towards the stairs. She put a hand on the bannister. She could practically feel the silk on her skin already-

"Tohsaka Rin. As the Moderator of the Fifth Holy Grail War, I formally request sanctuary from the Second Owner of Fuyuki."

Rin blinked. A tiny little part of her reminded the rest that she was supposed to act with poise and decorum when guests were in the house.

It was _such _a tiny part.

"Fffffffff-!"

She bet _Emiya_ wasn't having this much trouble getting to bed.

* * *

"No. Nope. Nu-uh. No way. Sayaka, you're _not_ sleeping in my bed."

Sayaka leered. "I don't recall saying I'd be doing any sleeping."

"You know what I mean!" Shirou's face was as red as his hair by this point.

"Aw, is Master embarrassed? Don't worry, Shirou, a knight would never be so unchivalrous as to peek while you're changing, or take advantage of her charge. Your," Sayaka sniggered, "_chastity_ will be safe with me, gentle damsel. No matter how good your butt looks in those jeans."

Shirou and Sayaka had made it home without anything else happening. He'd been extremely grateful to be going to bed, since he expected to be up at five the next morning same as usual, and had half stripped off to get changed when he realised that the Servant of Madness had followed him into the bedroom. And had no intention of leaving.

Shirou took a deep breath and tried again. "It's not that I think you'll try anything. You're a girl, and I'm a guy. It's the principle of the thing. And, OK, yes, it's embarrassing. Isn't it for you?"

His Servant shrugged. "Not really. I'm dead, remember? Pretty much past all that. I like to tease, but if _you_ know and _I_ know that nothing _lewd_ is gonna happen, what's the problem?" Her face turned serious for a moment. "Also, uh, you do know there's a War on, right?"

Oh. So it was a pragmatic thing, then? Okay, that was more reasonable. Shirou still wasn't going to let it slide, though. "There's a room _right_ next to this one that you can use all you want. I've seen how fast you move, Sayaka, I have no doubt you could Kool-Aid to my side in an instant if anything happened. It's a matter of maybe ten feet difference, in exchange for letting me get a better night's sleep. Ten feet, Sayaka. That's nothing to you." That was a pretty good argument, Shirou thought, given that he'd made it up on the spot.

"It's not the distance," Sayaka disagreed. She was frowning slightly, probably at the thought of her Master being attacked. Or at least, she was frowning slightly in Berserker body-language. In objective terms, her eyes were burning blue with barely-suppressed fury and her hands twitched as though itching to hit someone. But Shirou was starting to get a handle on how his Servant expressed herself.

"Then what?"

Sayaka began pacing. "The problem I'm worried about isn't some Servant smashing through the front door and demanding a challenge. We've got your dad's alarm system for that and, you're right, in that kind of situation it won't matter so much where I start off. But other Servants might not be as up-front about things as I am."

She pointed at the window, where the courtyard was clearly visible. "Archer is the Servant of the Bow. It wouldn't be strange if they could put three arrows through that window from a mile away before I realised anything was wrong." She pointed at the door which lead into the corridor from Shirou's room. "Assassin is the Servant of Murder, and specialises – _specialises_, Shirou – in killing Masters. It's entirely likely the alarm system wouldn't pick it up, and neither would I. It could be in here and slitting your throat and the first I'd know about it is when I start disappearing."

Finally she stopped and faced Shirou directly. "And I have no idea, none at all, what Caster is capable of. Even after fighting with him tonight, I know no more about him than when I first saw him trying to kill you."

"That's not entirely fair," Shirou tried.

"Isn't it? Sure, we know a lot about what he _can_ do. Nothing about what he _can't_. Can he turn himself invisible? Can he mind-control someone into coming in and making an attempt on your life? Can he put a curse on you from the safety of his workshop? Can he summon a demon and set it on you no matter where you are? I have no idea! I have _no idea_ how to prepare for or defend against any of that."

"I meant that's not fair because we're in an alliance now. We're teaming up against Saber, remember? They won't try to kill us until at least after she's dealt with. And, well, I know Tohsaka a little. She hides it well, but she's a good person. She won't try to kill me unless she absolutely has to. We're classmates, for God's sake."

Sayaka gave him a you-have-to-be-kidding-me look. "She's a magus. She's a magus with the chance for an honest-to-God wish. With a prize like that, you can't count on what people usually would or wouldn't do. People can do some pretty stupid things for a wish."

A wish… what would Shirou do if he could realise his dream of becoming a hero, right there and then in a single golden instant? If it meant saving everyone straight after? Could he throw, say, Tohsaka to the wolves if it meant saving everyone?

Well, no. There was an inherent contradiction there. Even if it meant everyone _else_ would be saved, the fact that Tohsaka wouldn't made it… unacceptable. And, okay, maybe Shirou was a little biased there, but if he was honest he couldn't see himself sacrificing _anyone_ just to save someone else, even a lot of someones. Did that make him an idiot? Maybe. But it didn't feel wrong.

He'd like to think Tohsaka felt the same way.

"That still doesn't make sense, though, Sayaka. If she's as coldhearted as you say, wouldn't she have bowed out of the battle against Saber and let her and her Master kill me? Ilya made it very clear she was only after me. Tohsaka and Caster could have gotten away without any problems." Instead Rin had moved to back him up immediately, even helping to save him from Ilya's familiars. Shirou wouldn't admit it, but it had felt pretty good to be the one Tohsaka relied on in battle, even if it was just as a meat shield. It meant he was helping… because he sure as heck wasn't going to do any good in a Servant battle.

There was more, too. "And then there's the way she jumped right in to help that priest guy. From what she was saying she doesn't even like him, but she fought that foreign magus with him anyway because it was the right thing to do. She's gone out of her way to be helpful when she hasn't had to be ever since she realised her misunderstanding over attacking me. Introducing me to the War, taking me to the Moderator, protecting me in battle – those aren't the actions of a selfish magus with nothing but victory on her mind."

Sayaka still looked sceptical. She snorted, and tossed her head in annoyance. The effect wasn't as good as when Tohsaka did it since Sayaka's hair was a lot shorter, but it definitely got the message across. Maybe one day Shirou would manage not to disappoint one of these superpowered women in his life, but not today.

"Okay, sure, _maybe_ Miss Perfect is everything you say and you're not just thinking with Little Shirou there. That still means nothing. Even if_ she's_ a good person, Caster definitely _isn't_."

"No? Again, he's been helpful so far, hasn't he? He's, well, a hero." Shirou had actually kind of liked Caster, despite the, uh, less than stellar first impression. The older man was funny, and charismatic, and unfailingly polite. And on top of that, he was _strong_ – he seemed to have an answer for any situation. Shirou could do worse than model his hero persona on Caster.

"Is that what you saw? _I_ saw a loose cannon, and believe me, I know loose cannons. Miss Perfect might think she's got him under control, but make no mistake, Caster does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He decided our route home, did you notice? He controls the group so subtly you can hardly tell, but he calls all the shots.

"In our fight with Saber as well – he pulls off his magic yelling or whatever, changes the battlefield entirely, and expects me to keep up and adjust. I mean, I wasn't complaining at the time, but it's a telling attitude. Oh, and that dragon earlier? Tohsaka wasn't expecting that. The guy lets a _dragon_ loose on the world, and doesn't even inform his Master beforehand?

"And before that, when he introduced himself as Rider? Again, his Master wasn't expecting it and accidentally outed him as Caster – and I'm not even getting into what kind of devious mind immediately lies about his Servant class! If she'd been quicker on the uptake, and if we hadn't encountered the real one, we might have thought he was Rider up until – when? The church? The fight with Saber? _Beyond_ that? Would we be entering into an alliance with 'Rider' right now, with no idea of his real class? Don't tell me your _girlfriend_ would set the record straight of her own accord. Someone with a public and private face _that_ different is no stranger to lies and deceptions herself!"

Berserker broke off, breathing hard, and visibly forced herself to calm down. One finger at a time, her fists unclenched, and her face relaxed from a terrifying snarl into a neutral mask. She coughed sheepishly at Shirou, who was watching in horrified fascination.

"A-hem. Sorry, Shirou. Anyway, Caster. We can't trust him. Trust Miss Perfect if you like, whatever, but don't ever turn your back on her Servant. Ideally, I'd say 'don't trust anyone', but I can see that's not going to fly with you." She sighed, fondly. "It's a problem for the War, but I can't say I don't like that part of you."

Shirou rubbed the back of neck, and smiled. "Thanks, I guess. I can't remember if I've said this or not, but I'm glad I've got you looking after me for the War. I suppose we'll just have to do our best and leave the sneaky stuff to someone else, huh?"

Sayaka smiled back at him. When she was like this, she actually looked her age. How old was she, anyway? Younger than him, Shirou was sure. Did that mean she'd died young, or did the Servant system rewind her age to the time her legend was created? For that matter, what time was she from? She certainly didn't talk like Shirou would expect ancient legends to. Well, ancient legends probably wouldn't be speaking modern Japanese in the first place, so something was probably going on with the language regardless. But even then Sayaka seemed like it was her native tongue rather than something magical.

What era was the youngest possible Servant from? Could they be from the future as well as the past? Was there even now a little Sayaka running around, with no clue that one day she would ascend to the Throne of Heroes?

Shirou coughed, and the moment was lost.

"Well then." Sayaka clapped her hands together, "Get those clothes off, lover-boy, we're going to bed!"

"Sayaka, no-"

"Sayaka, yes!" His Servant grinned, and put her hands on her hips. "Look. I'll make it real simple for you."

"How's that?" Shirou asked cautiously.

His Servant's body began dissolving into blue motes of light. In his head, he heard, _If you don't want me in here, just remove me. You know, assuming you can affect an astralised Servant._

… damn it.

* * *

The living room of the Tohsakas was, like much of the rest of the house, a bit too grand for a single girl living alone. There were times – not often, but there were – when Rin looked at the fancy Western-style coffee table with its high-backed dining chairs, or at the elaborate chandelier, or at the huge marble fireplace, and thought it was all a bit wasted on her.

It couldn't be helped, of course. Rin was in no state to take care of her mother, and anyone else who would live there either wasn't a magus, so Rin couldn't have the run of the house to conduct her magical activities as she had for the last ten years, or _was_ a magus, in which case Rin would be constantly worried about her mysteries being stolen. So she would live alone, probably until she found some guy to marry and partially induct into her secrets. Kind of sad, but that was the way it was when you were a magus.

Actually, that had been one of the nicer things about having Caster around. It was oddly reassuring to see him using bits of the house that Rin would otherwise have no use for. The fireplace, for instance – Caster didn't really feel the cold, but seemed to think a house wasn't a house without a hearth fire burning.

The living room, likewise, hadn't been used to entertain visitors for a very long time. Rin usually took her meals there, because the dining room was too much even for her, but when she wasn't eating or sleeping she was usually down in her workshop studying or experimenting. Now, Rin sat on one end of the table, and Kirei took the other. Rin rubbed her eyes, tiredly. There was no point in pretending to be elegant in front of Kirei, Rin had given up on _that_ by the age of about ten. It only encouraged him to try and break the facade.

The door opened. Caster stalked in, boots thudding on the floor, and handed Rin a glass vial with an alarmingly green concoction inside. That done, he stood passively behind Rin's chair, every inch the reliable retainer. Considering he was six and a half feet of spiritual muscle, and, you know, a tireless machine of murder and magic besides, he did an admirable job at not looming.

He had whipped up the potion at Rin's request – supposedly, it restored stamina, whatever _that_ meant. Well, it couldn't do any harm. Rin uncorked the vial and drained it in one gulp.

It tasted mostly of honey, and a chilly tingle rushed through her body. Immediately, Rin felt less tired. No – not quite less tired, but certainly less fatigued. She still needed a good few hours in bed, but all the energy she'd lost by running around and fighting for her life had been restored. Now she felt like she could bear a conversation with her guardian.

"That's better. Thank you, Caster," Rin said with a satisfied sigh.

"Of course, Master."

"Right. Okay. So, fake priest, do you know how much harder you've made my evening?"

Kirei didn't blink. "My sincere apologies. I would not be here unless it was necessary. Obviously, I would prefer my home to be intact, but it seems neither of us will be getting what we want tonight."

"Bah." Something occurred to Rin. "Oh, yeah, who was that woman, anyway? If she had a Servant, that means she's a Master, and that means you should at least have an idea of who she is, right?"

"Oh? I am in your house not five minutes before you try and gain information on the other Masters from the moderator. I am sure I raised you with a better sense of fair play than that, Rin," Kirei said with a chuckle. He quickly subsided, though. "On the other hand, it is clear that Miss McRemitz has no intention to follow the proper procedure of the War. I had planned on announcing this to the other Masters in any case, so I suppose it is no problem for you to know.

"Her name is Bazett Fraga McRemitz, age nineteen. She is considered something of a rising star among the Enforcers, with a natural talent for combat applications of her magic. As I am sure you have gathered, she is an expert in rune magic, appropriate for someone of her lineage, and excels at Reinforcement as well. It is also worth noting that, as a Fraga, she may well hold one of the last Noble Phantasms usable by modern humans."

Rin's eyes widened. "A Noble Phantasm? Oh, hang on, Fraga, Fraga, I know this… ah! Fragarach, right? The Answerer, or something."

"Correct. Fragarach, the Ace-killing Joker. A sword that activates against an opponents strongest ability, reverses time to before it was used, and pierces their heart. You would be well-advised not to use a Noble Phantasm against her."

Caster shifted position, and spoke up. "Not an issue. I would have to see such a weapon in action to be sure, but I suspect it would be ineffective on me. I doubt I _have_ any one 'Ace', and certainly neither of my Noble Phantasms count." He looked down at Rin, and lowered his voice slightly. "It is even more likely to be ineffective on Berserker, Master. If it's nothing more than a sword through the heart, she can probably walk it off with some fresh air and stiff drink. Actually, it's likely I could as well with the right items… I'll investigate."

Turning back to Kirei, Rin concluded, "So, apparently, we're probably fine against Fragarach. The issue is that McRemitz is, frankly, better than me at combat. Fighting her is like fighting a mini-Servant all by herself… I don't suppose you have a summon that could deal with that?" she added, looking at Caster.

Her Servant shrugged. "If she defeated my dremora lord, then there's not much beyond that without resorting to Durnehviir."

Images of a dragon trying to fit itself into her living room flashed through Rin's mind. "Let's not. Speaking of, Kirei, how were you planning on dealing with the fallout from last night? We sort of summoned a dragon and an evil mermaid to fight Rider, so, y'know, sorry about that," Rin said, not feeling sorry at all.

Kirei frowned, just a little bit. Rin internally pumped a fist.

"Hm. Well. I am sure I will find a way to explain it to any authorities who become curious. But, Rin, it is past time you gave an answer. Will you grant me sanctuary?"

Rin felt inordinately proud. For once, Kirei was actually taking her seriously, and treating her as a Master in the Holy Grail War. Kirei had been her guardian and teacher for so long, Rin hadn't really considered the other dynamic that would exist between them during the course of the War, but of course the War made everyone equals. Literally _everything_ was to play for. It was nice to be acknowledged.

…but that didn't mean she had to make it _easy_.

"And why should I?" she asked. "It seems a hassle. It's a security risk, too – while I'm sure you would _never_ be so unscrupulous as to hold a bias in the War-" she paused to share a smirk with her father's old ally Kirei, "the fact remains that whenever Masters seek an audience with the Moderator they'll be doing it inside my base of operations. And then there's this McRemitz person to consider. I like my house unflattened by giants, thank you. So, Kirei, why shouldn't I tell you to jog on and find other host?"

Kirei simply inclined his head in acknowledgement of the points. Probably he'd been expecting something along these lines. "That is your right, of course. I recognise this is not ideal, and you will indeed take on an additional security risk. How about this, then? I will agree not to reveal to any other Masters, directly or indirectly, any information about the house, its defences, you personally, or your Servant that I might gain from my being here during the War." Kirei paused, and looked at Rin.

Damn it. He was testing her. Rin had learned early on in her apprenticeship to carefully examine any deals that Kirei offered her, even seemingly innocuous ones like 'If you achieve above 80% on your next test I shall buy you an ice cream.' Her guardian had screwed her over on that one by immediately presenting her with a standard Clock Tower test on the Gandr curse, which Rin had failed miserably. He claimed it was important practice for the cutthroat world of magi, and maybe that was true, but Rin felt like he had enjoyed her disappointment far too much in any case.

Rin had gotten a little bit sharper since then.

"Yeah, that's not going to work. You already know more about my house and defences than I'd be comfortable sharing even without you staying here. Let's make it a blanket ban on you in _any _way conferring an advantage to another Master – or Servant, come to that – by your being here."

Kirei frowned. "I will need to conduct my business as the Moderator at some point. I cannot be held responsible if another Master is more perceptive than I am careful. One skilled in sensory abilities may gain information by simply observing the house's defences, and yet by your version of the agreement I would have conferred an advantage and be held responsible."

Ah, he'd spotted it. Well, whatever. "Tough luck for you, then," Rin said, shrugging. "Conduct your Moderator business from the premise gates if you have to, or outside of it, even. I'll be generous and say you only need to avoid it to the best of your ability."

"Sometimes I think I taught you too well," Kirei sighed. "Very well, then. Is that all?"

"Haha, nope. See, all of that is stuff that you should be doing anyway if you really were committed to impartiality, and even then I'm not totally convinced you'll do a perfect job of it. There's also the added risk specifically from McRemitz – we already know she's gunning for you specifically. As compensation for bringing her attention to me and my house, I'd like some extra assistance in the War."

One eyebrow quirked up on Kirei's face, but it otherwise remained still. "I will defend myself if attacked. In that spirit, I would be willing to support and strengthen the defences here, to take full advantage of the sanctuary you have provided. What compensation on top of that were you thinking would be an adequate payment?"

"An additional Command Seal would do nicely. Failing that, your direct support in the War, at least against McRemitz. Information on the other Masters would certainly be welcome," Rin tried.

"Impossible." The reply came straight away. "An additional Command Seal this early in the game would be seen as violating my impartiality, if I gave it away to one of the Founding Families for doing its job and hosting the Moderator. Likewise, I certainly cannot support you in the War on your say-so – again, I am supposed to be impartial."

Well, it had been worth a try. "Very well then. In that case, I'm also going to ban you from entering my workshop without my express permission. As my teacher, you've been welcome in the past, but I'm upping security and Caster's got his own experiments going on down there. It's nothing you need to be worried about as the Moderator, but it's just a silly idea in general to have too many people down there. So yeah, stay out of my basement." Rin smiled cheerfully and went on.

"Don't worry, though, it's not all one-sided. While you're here, I'll promise to provide such infrastructure as necessary to carry out your duties as moderator – you know, spells for announcements you need to make, aid in preparing for the Grail's appearance, mood lighting, creepy organ music, all of that." Kirei sighed, and Rin smirked. "I'll protect you from attack as much as is reasonable while you're acting as the moderator, and, what the heck, I'll promise to provide food and accommodation as well."

"I can see you've thought this through. Miserly as usual, but I suppose I could expect no less of you." Kirei stood, and extended a hand. "Do we have an accord, Tohsaka Rin?"

Rin also stood, and took it. Neither of them did that stupid game where one tried to crush the other's hand, and if Rin accidentally reinforced her arm muscles, well, it was late and she could be forgiven for that.

"Out of curiosity," said Rin, rubbing her hand, "where would you have gone next if I'd refused?"

Kirei didn't show any sign of discomfort, the bastard. "Einzbern and Matou, in that order, then the rest of the Masters. Your friend, young Emiya, would possibly have been high on the list. I understand his place is well-suited to accommodating visitors."

Was it now? There was a thought.

"Right, well," said Rin. "You can use the guestroom. You should know where it is by now, I'm sure. You can get your own luggage as well, if you have any. I, meanwhile, will be going to bed. If you need anything, I'm sure Caster will be up. Knock on the workshop door if you can't find him."

"And do please excuse the noise," Caster said. "Smithing isn't the quietest of work." With that, he nodded his farewells to Rin and Kirei and made for the stairs. Rin followed.

She practically crawled into bed, and drifted off to sleep to the muffled sounds of a hammer striking an anvil.

* * *

Looking down at what had, until earlier tonight, been her base of operations, Mami was willing to admit she _might_ have miscalculated when she let her former Master go.

Sure, she'd been expecting that Miss McRemitz would cause problems for Kotomine down the line, maybe disrupt the War a bit. At most, she might use her Servant to leverage the other Master-Servant pairs into a revolt against the Moderator. She certainly _hadn't_ expected Bazett to assault the church directly and use her Servant to turn it into a pile of sad-looking rubble.

At the time Mami had been stalking the Einzbern girl and her Servant, but was understandably distracted when lightning struck out of a clear sky and distant roars started coming from the direction of the church. She'd immediately disengaged, and was halfway there before her Master told her to hold off and wait for instructions.

It had been a tense few minutes, wondering whether or not she would suddenly feel the loss of prana that meant Mami would start disappearing over the next few hours. She hadn't even been able to really see the church even from her vantage point, much less line up a clear shot, and Mami had felt very useless indeed. It was nothing like how a Servant _or_ a magical girl should behave.

Eventually, Kotomine had reported that he had made good his escape. Despite her dislike of the man, Mami had breathed a sigh of relief. She could hardly win the War without a Master, after all. Her mood soured when it became clear that he _still_ didn't want her around, and in fact that since he was seeking sanctuary with one of the other Masters, she'd have to keep her distance the entire War. Nope, instead of letting his Servant protect him from the Master with a giant-sized grudge, Kotomine was going to continue to have her, surprise surprise, scouting and reporting back.

It wasn't that she wanted to be around Kotomine any more than she had to be. He was a dick. Also, thanks to Independent Action, her combat performance wouldn't even suffer from operating away from her Master. But Mami would much rather do things _properly,_ rather than sneaking around pretending she was working for another Master or whatever. She was a gunner, a sniper. She wasn't a spy. The subterfuge annoyed her on a deep level.

But, that was what her Master wanted, so there was no helping it. In the meantime, she had her instructions.

First, salvage. Mami picked through the ruined church, in search of any important mystic codes or books that could prove useful to her Master. Unfortunately, the roof had collapsed and covered everything, only a few of the walls were left standing, and what was left was mostly smashed. Beyond the main hall, it was hard to even tell the layout of the building. Nevertheless, Mami had a good sense of direction, and was able to roughly guess where all the important stuff might have been.

There wasn't too much of that sort of thing, in any case. Kotomine was a magus, sort of, but hardly a very active one. Instead of experimenting and tweaking his magic to find a path towards Akasha, like most magi did, he preferred to simply amass a series of tools. Versatility, not mastery. It might be more accurate to call him a magic-user rather than a proper magus… but the point was moot since his position in the church made it hard to classify him with magus terminology.

Regardless, there weren't as many spiritual or conceptual items lying around in the church as one might expect. There were, however, some number of holy items, blessed or sanctified one way or another. Kotomine had asked her to retrieve these, as they could well be useful for the War. Well, what he'd _said_ was "These items are meant to do the Lord's work; to let them wallow in Sloth would be a grievous sin," but Mami could read between the lines.

Fortunately, Mami had a little bit of an affinity with enchanted items. She held her hand out in front of her, and her Soul Gem appeared in her palm. With a little effort, it glowed – slightly brighter on one side than the other. Mami followed it, until it was glowing evenly. There was a pile of rubble there, so Mami shifted it aside with her free hand. Beneath it was a red cloth, clearly some kind of holy artefact.

The technique was much the same as hunting for wraiths, but modified to search for prana instead of Grief. Magical girls usually worked too differently from magi for their power sources to be cross-compatible in this way, so it probably wasn't possible for most to search for prana without first being exposed to it on some level. Since Mami was currently made of the stuff, though, she could manage just fine.

She began a little pile of the objects that stood out most clearly to her, in a relatively undamaged part of the church, less exposed to the elements. Eventually, Mami thought she was done. The items would be posted to the Tohsaka house in the morning – obviously Servant Archer wasn't going to deliver them herself to an enemy Master's base of operations.

Next, up, a message, to let everyone who called at the church know where the priest could be found. Not just for the purposes of the War, either – Kotomine could contact the Church himself to let them know where their Executor had gone, but the Fuyuki parishioners might need to know as well if they needed him for something.

However, that would have to wait until morning. Mami could do a lot of things, but spontaneous creation of signage wasn't among them. She'd head over to the library or something and laminate a sheet of paper to stick up on the gates.

Which left – Mami sighed internally – pacifying the King of Heroes.

With a little more searching, Mami found the stairs down to the basement, and from there her way to the catacombs beneath Kotomine church. If there was any place that could be improved by a building collapsing on it, it was the catacombs, but unfortunately they appeared to be the same as always. Mami had only previously been allowed down here on very brief errands between scouting sorties. Usually they were to do with relaying messages to Gilgamesh, when Kotomine was out of the building or otherwise couldn't be bothered to deal with the other Servant's… _abrasive_ personality.

There was no need to use her Soul Gem to find Gilgamesh – Servants could sense each other, and anyway his presence was so massive he was just immediately obvious to anyone with any kind of magical senses. Mami followed the force of personality, feeling like she was approaching a roaring fire, or slowly opening her eyes to blinding light. Eventually she arrived at, where else, the wine cellar.

She knocked, and waited. Eventually, a bored voice answered. "Ah, it's Servant Archer, presumably here to explain why my abode has been reduced to so much _trash_," here Mami flinched at the venom in the words, even through the door, "when she should have been defending her Master? By all means, come in."

Mami took a breath. Hand trembling slightly, she opened the door and went straight in. No point being hesitant – the last thing she needed was for Gilgamesh to decide she was wasting his time. She bowed immediately, as deep as she knew how, eyes on the floor.

"Good evening, King of Heroes. My Master sends his sincere apologies for this regrettable state of affairs. He hopes you will understand that it was all for the sake of maintaining his cover, and that it will not alter the outline for his designs at all." Not that Mami knew what those were. "He also sends his reassurances that you will continue to have full use of the catacombs, along with their accompanying resources." Not that Mami knew what _those_ were supposed to be either.

Gilgamesh sighed. He was lounging in a chair in a corner, lit by a warm yellow glow from a lamp. With the bare walls of the cellar around him, Mami could almost imagine she was in some ancient pyramid, despite the modern trappings the king in gold had surrounded himself with. Adding to the impression, he wasn't wearing the clothes he'd picked up between now and the end of the Fourth War, but rather his own clothing, presumably pulled from the Gate of Babylon. White shirt, snakeskin trousers, gold jewellery… he really did look extremely attractive. Fortunately, Mami was entirely too terrified of the King of Heroes to ever, _ever_ consider him in that way. There were probably better ways to anger the prideful Servant than by hitting on him uninvited, but it would do the trick just fine. It was a shame, really – if Mami had to be on a team that was cheating, she could have at least had a Servant she could get along with. Instead, she had…

"So, I am to squat in these dusty caves like some homeless beggar, is that it? This is pushing it, even for Kotomine." Gilgamesh looked as impassive as ever, despite his words. If he was truly angry, Mami would have a few feet of Noble Phantasm through her chest by now… but there was a sense of rising pressure in the air.

"You are of course welcome to move around the city as you please-" Mami tried.

"I can move around my own kingdom? How generous." A slight frown.

The next words came out in a rush, "-except that my Master humbly requests that you allow the Servants and Masters to establish themselves first before you attack and don't waste yourself at such an early point in the war and not waste all the preparation you've both put into this-" Mami stopped, aware she was panicking, and took a deep breath. "Um, he also says it's so you can make a grander entrance onto your stage, but I don't really get that bit."

Gilgamesh sighed. The pressure vanished. Mami felt somehow that she'd dodged a bullet. Or, more accurately, like the madman with the barrel to her head had decided not to fire.

"Honestly," he said. He was smiling, very slightly. "I don't use theatre metaphors for _everything, _Kirei." He stood, and stretched. "Very well. I shall abide, a little while longer. Surely there must be some place in this miserable city that would make a suitable dwelling for a king."

"Kotomine can provide a list of the top hotels in Fuyuki for your consideration," Mami supplied. Gilgamesh met her eyes briefly, but otherwise gave no acknowledgement.

He continued as if Mami hadn't spoken. "I will entertain myself until it is time to, as Kirei says, make my entrance. I will, indeed, grant his request to stay out of his fledgeling War and let his plots continue apace… except for one thing." He turned, and Mami suddenly found herself mesmerised by the King of Heroes' eyes, boring into her own, so deep they could surely find Kotomine watching from inside. "But know this, Kirei. Should I encounter the _barbarian_ who dared to cast down my walls, I will carry out my execution then and there, plots or no plots."

Mami nodded, but couldn't bring herself to speak. All that was left was to wait until Gilgamesh dismissed her.

Eventually he seemed satisfied, and relaxed. "Very well. Then that, I think, is all. Try not to tremble so, Archer. I am not so unreasonable as to attack a herald unprovoked."

Unsure of how to respond to that, Mami just bowed again. "Thank you, King of Heroes. Is there anything else you require?"

There was a slight, but noticeable smirk on Gilgamesh's face. "Remind me, Archer, do the laws of this land regard you as suitable age to purchase alcohol?"

_Huh_? "N- no," Mami said, somewhat taken aback.

"If you cannot bring me wine, then no, there is nothing else I require of you. Except…" Gilgamesh's eyes focused, for some reason, on Mami's beret, of all things. "The jewel you carry. I believe your society calls them Soul Gems, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right. Um, that is, you are correct, King of Her-"

Gilgamesh waved a hand. "Spare me. How much do you know about your… Soul Gem, Archer? Beyond the practical uses, I mean."

Good question. Mami hadn't really given it all that much thought. There wasn't time, what with trying not to get eaten by Wraiths every day and then trying to look after her little group. She knew lots about the various things that could be done with a Soul Gem, not much about what they actually were.

"I know it appears when we contract. I was able to watch a contract once, and it appeared from the heart, whatever that means. Um, they're all slightly different colours and shapes, no two that I've seen are exactly alike. They're gems, but considering how they're made they're probably not actually emeralds and rubies and so on, but as far as I know no-one actually knows what they _are_."

"Hm." Gilgamesh was looking bored again. "Fascinating. Well, I will leave that particular mystery to you. I have no interest in such things – treasures they may be, but not the sort that fit well in my treasury." That was a lie, Mami could tell. Gilgamesh did nothing without reason. If he was showing interest in her Soul Gem, he knew something she didn't, and it probably wasn't good for her. On the other hand, what was she going to do, challenge him over it? She gave a final bow and turned to leave.

"One more thing, Archer. Does the word '_Incubator'_ mean anything to you?"

_'Incubator'?_ An English word, by the sound of it. It had been a while since Mami had last taken an English class. Still, somewhere in her head there was a connection.

"Um, something to do with babies, I think. Beyond that, no, it doesn't mean anything special."

"I see. In that case, you may go, Archer." That was a dismissal, and one that Mami was quite happy to take. She all but fled the room, and didn't breathe easy until she was outside under the open sky again.

_What_ on Earth had that all been about?

* * *

_Rin dreamed of a snowy mountain. It was bitterly cold, the kind of temperature that took your breath away and found a way through the thickest clothing. The sky was covered in iron-coloured clouds, casting everything in a dull grey light. For all that, though, the air was clear, and you could see the landscape for miles around._

_To one side, rugged tundra stretched out, covered in hard grasses and sparse bushes. To the other, a vast range of snow-capped mountains. It looked like a land of heroes, of monsters, of magic…_

_...and of dragons._

_Snow turned to steam under the white-hot assault, and the warrior dove to one side. He rolled, agile even in armour, and came up holding his battleaxe in front of him. The dragon turned, but the armoured warrior was already too close, in the space between the neck and the wing. He swung wildly, again and again. The dragon's wing lashed out, and the man was knocked sideways into the ground. He rolled aside – not a moment too soon. The dragon's teeth closed inches from the man's head._

_Steel – or was it even steel? - bit into a massive shoulder joint, and the dragon sagged. An excited shout came, and the warrior redoubled his efforts. He worked his way round – now he was between the wing and the tail._

_With a mighty heave, the axe sank deep into the underbelly of the dragon. It reared in agony, and the warrior fell back, landing on his rear in the snow. For a moment Rin thought it was the end for the man… and then the dragon fell, slumping down to the ground with a crash._

_The warrior didn't move for a second, as though unsure it was really over. Then the dragon began to burn, flaking away like a book tossed on a fire. When he saw it, the warrior slumped onto his back in relief. Rin heard him laughing in pure joy, as though in surprise he was really alive._

_There was a rushing noise. Some kind of disturbance in the air rose from the dragon, and whirled around. It looked like it was trying to escape… but then all of a sudden it was drawn towards the warrior instead. He sat up, and spread his hands in an invitation. He took a deep breath in as the last of the barely-visible energy surged towards him, and it was inhaled along with the freezing air. When the last of it had disappeared, the warrior took off his helmet._

_Rin had been expecting it – it was unmistakably her Servant. He looked different, younger. This warrior didn't have the casual arrogance that Caster had, didn't dominate through his presence alone. But the face was the same, the scraggly beard, the cheerful grin._

"_Hah," he sighed. "How many does that make, now? Not so easy as they once were, either..." He reached into his pack, and pulled out a bottle of red liquid, a roll of bread, and some kind of cured meat. He drained the potion in a single draught, and, with the skeletal corpse of the dragon in front of him, settled down to eat in the snow._

_When he was done, he reached over to put the bottle back into his pack, and winced. A golden glow appeared in his hand, and spread over his body for a few seconds. When it faded, the man who would become Caster checked himself over carefully for any more injuries. Apparently finding none, he stood and shouldered his pack, brushed snow off his trousers, and set off._

_Rin thought he was heading for the dragon, but in fact he went straight past it, towards the oddly smooth curved wall on the other side of the summit. There was some kind of carving on it, dots and scratches that looked to have been made with claws, of all things, but Rin couldn't make heads or tails of it._

_The warrior, on the other hand, strode straight up to it and looked it up and down. When he got close, three parts of the carved script lit up, sending streamers of blue energy towards him. He gasped. "Three words? Must be my lucky day..."_

_Then the lid of the sarcophagus to one side of the wall flew off. The warrior's head snapped round in alarm – giving way to terror as what was inside rose up._

_It looked a bit like a very old, dried-out zombie, but dressed in fine scaled robes, tattered by age but of fine quality. In one hand it clutched a wooden staff, carved to resemble a dragon at the top. In the other, snowflakes danced. The air was thick with frost, covering the creature as though it drained what little heat remained in the air._

_But worse was the mask it wore. Rin had seen those masks before, as part of Caster's Eternal Quester. And indeed, the thing practically hummed with power, and a peculiar sense of misery._

"_Dragon priest..." gasped the warrior. He turned to run, but a fireball exploded in front of his feet. The dragon priest was eerily silent as it lined up another shot with its staff. The warrior gulped, then reached into his pack and brought out three potions. Draining each, he readied his weapon and prepared for a battle more dangerous by far than the dragon had been..._


End file.
